Appleby Street
by The Raggedy Doctor
Summary: On a street where anything's possible, the unthinkable happens. Someone is shot, and everyone becomes a suspect. A Dark Drama: The British Answer to Desperate Housewives.
1. Chapter 1: Secrets of the Street

**Chapter 1: Secrets of the Street**

As the morning sun rose over the town of Hinsdale, the sun cast eerie shadows on the large houses of Appleby Street. And as the warm glow illuminated the homes of Appleby Street, the residents woke and began their daily routines.

At number 10, Ben Jones opened his eyes, stretching in the comfortably large, king-sized bed. On his right lay his sleeping wife, Ellie. She was beautiful. The golden glow lit up her almond face, her long dark hair and her wrinkle-free face. For a woman of 38 years old, Ellie Jones looked remarkable for her age.

Ben kissed her on the forehead then climbed out of bed. He stretched again and looked at the floor length mirror opposite him. He had dark brown hair, almost black, with dark brown eyes. On his chin was a three-day-old stubble. He stood in the warm room, in his black undergarment, then decided to go cook breakfast for his wife and children.

---

Meanwhile, across the road at number 11, Matt Bourne woke to find himself sprawled out on the cold tiled flooring of his luxurious house. In his right hand was a bottle of expensive Champagne. Using his left hand, he pushed himself to his feet. His breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. He binned the bottle of wine then ran up stairs.

In the small circular mirror, Matt briefly looked at his smooth face, messy brown hair and blue eyes. He tore off his clothes and discarded them into the washing basket. He stepped into the shower and tried to wash away his problems in the warm water of the shower. But to no avail could he forget what he had done to his wife the night before.

---

Next door, at number 15 was Charlene Gates. She stood in her bedroom, glaring into the reflective glass of her handheld mirror, checking her hair. Originally, it had been a pale blonde, but she had tried to dye it to a subtle golden blonde. She idolized her neighbour Amy in everyway. The woman seemed so perfect. She checked her forehead and sighed to herself. Another £15,000 would be needed for a brow lift if she wanted to look just like Amy.

Her teenage daughter walked in, and looked around. Plastered over the walls were pictures of the lady next door. Charlene shrieked at her daughter, throwing the mirror at her. Erin, her daughter, closed the door – just in time – to hear the shattering of glass as the mirror broke. Charlene buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She would never be like Amy unless she was Amy herself. She had to end her obsession. Or end something else…

---

Over at number 12 lived the Wilkinson family. Terri and Brad sat at the breakfast table, eating their toast and cereal, chatting animatedly. Their children, Mary and Stewart sat opposite them and looked at Terri. She was seemingly perfect, with her winning smile, her manicured nails, her glossy hair and her kindly green eyes. Yes, Terri Wilkinson had it all.

She wasn't a snob, but she defiantly wasn't a slob. She smiled thoughtfully, and collected everyone's dishes as the family talked over their plans for today. She began scrubbing at a plate as the doorbell rang. She put the dishes down, dried her hands on her glowing white apron then went to answer the door. She smiled at a photo of her family then opened the door. She saw the silver glint of a gun. She saw the grey bullet as it hit her in the chest. But she was too surprised to scream and Terri Wilkinson collapsed in her doorway, surrounded by a pool of blood. Oh yes, Terri had had everything but not anymore…

---

Two doors down at number 16, the arguing had already begun. The Smith family consisted of Florence; the well-meaning mother and wife, Sam; the cheating husband and father and Bobby; their child. Oblivious to the attack at number 12, the Smith family were already fuming with hatred. Bobby sat, slowly munching his cereals while his parents had another 'verbal disagreement'.

Florence was screaming at Sam because she'd awoke to find herself alone in the bed at 4 AM, and found that Sam was downstairs, on the sofa bed with 'some tart he'd picked up off the streets'. Sam bellowed back at his wife, claiming she was 'too over protective and that their marriage was steadily declining towards divorce'. Bobby buried his head in his hands and cried as the hubbub continued in a vicious slagging match.

---

Next door, at Number 18 lived Miss Thomas. Emily Thomas was a lucky woman. She was 40 but looked 20. Her long blonde curls, heart shaped face, pouted lips and puppy-dog blue eyes had caused many men to fall head-over-heels in love with her. And on a Sunday morning, she liked nothing better than to wake up besides an attractive man who she bedded the night before. She remembered their night of passion and grinned wickedly.

Emily got out of bed, robotically and pulled on a skimpy dressing gown over her scantily clad body. The man, who had been beside her, woke to see his lover stood in front of him. He grinned deviously as she pounced on him, and the two disappeared under the covers. Yes, Emily was lucky but her luck would soon run out.

---

Finally, at number 17 was where Mrs. Catherine Gardener resided. Catherine lived opposite Miss Thomas and had done so all her life. Catherine was a pleasant girl, well-mannered and well-meaning. But the simple fact that gossip ruled her dreary life meant she wasn't the most trustworthy person. As she filled the kettle for a cup of tea to start her tedious day, she looked out her window, with her tiny, hawk-like eyes.

She saw that the Wilkinson family's door was open, but no one seemed to be there. Mrs Gardener tried to resist the instinct to rush over and poke her nose in, but the urge was too powerful, and, grabbing her handbag and a Jacket, Mrs Gardener went to find out a deadly secret, which would haunt the neighbours of Terri Wilkinson for a long while to come


	2. Chapter 2: Sunday Morning

**Chapter 2: Sunday Morning**

As the residents continued their daily lives, Terri sat and waited for someone to find her. She was not yet dead, but her body remained disobedient to her mind. So Terri sat and waited for her hero to arrive, with little hope or luck.

Catherine strolled past the Thomas residence, and crossed the road. And then, Mrs Catherine Gardener finally saw what the problem was. The middle aged woman fell to her knees and let out an awful scream, which echoed through the once quiet neighbourhood.

---

The Jones family were sitting down to breakfast when Mrs Gardener shrieked. Ben and Ellie got up, and went to their front door, wrenched it opened and looked outside to discover what was wrong. Mrs Gardener was on her knees in a crowd of people and the sirens of an Ambulance grew louder. Ben looked at Ellie, who nodded. Mr Jones firmly tightened the cord of his blue dressing gown and marched over towards the sobbing, middle-aged woman.

"What happened?" Ben asked Amy, who was stood in the crowd with a cotton, pink gown wrapped around her.

"Mrs Gardener found Terri Wilkinson on her doorstep. She had been shot, and there was blood everywhere," Amy replied, calmly. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear then continued. "The Ambulance were called but nobody knows who shot her,"

"There, there, Catherine" an elderly woman was saying. "It's alright"

"Trust Mrs Gardener to make a drama out of a private thing," Ben murmured and Amy nodded in agreement.

By this time, Ben and Amy's other half's had appeared, curious that their partners had not returned. Matt smelt of very strong cologne and mints. Ben coughed a little, and Matt turned red.

"What's happened here?" Ellie asked.

"Terri Wilkinson was shot." Ben replied.

"By whom?" Matt inquired.

"Nobody knows." Amy answered.

After Amy's comment, the Ambulance pulled up, and the four friends rushed towards it, and saw their fifth friend, lying on a bed of cotton, her eyes closed, with blood all over her lovely apron.

"Oh my," Ellie clasped a hand over her mouth. "It's true,"

An Ambulance worker, who vaguely resembled a gorilla nodded. "Yeah. She was shot by someone about half an hour ago. She's stable, but we think she won't make it to tomorrow," he said gravely.

"That's awful" Matt thought aloud.

"Her poor husband" Amy added, looking at the 14 carat gold ring on the pale woman's finger.

Ellie took Terri's hand and squeezed it gently. The ambulance worker began to talk with Matt about her injuries. Then, Ellie was almost certain that she felt someone squeeze her hand back. Ellie looked at Mrs. Wilkinson's face, the still, emotionless face and realised that Mrs Wilkinson wasn't dead. In fact, she was very much alive.

While his wife looked at the poor woman, Ben had noticed that the door to the Wilkinson residence was still open, and that Brad was knelt down doing something. Curious, Ben edged closer to one of his neighbours and saw that Brad was scrubbing at the blood stains on the wooden floor, where Terri had been.

"What in the world…?" Ben whispered to himself, approaching Brad. He took a deep breath and tapped gently on the open door. Brad didn't look up.

"Hello Brad. I just wanted to let you know that I am so sorry for your loss," Ben said, sombrely.

Brad didn't respond for a few moments then said something indistinguishable.

"Excuse me…" Ben knelt down to see what the man was muttering.

"I said 'I'm Cleaning!'" Brad roared, and Ben fell backwards with shock. He'd never know Brad to be so viscous.

"I'm sorry," Ben stuttered.

"Go Away!" Brad got to his feet, shrieking and waving his arms about. Ben backed away slowly. Brad was breathing heavily, like an angry rhinoceros. Mr Wilkinson slammed the door to Number 12, leaving Ben alone on the well kept garden.

---

Charlene Gates watched the events unroll from the safety of her front room. "Dirty, filthy Scavengers. Disgusting insects! Foul Vermin!" There was a tinker of glass as Charlene destroyed a valuable ornament her mother had given her. Why couldn't she be Amy? Charlene stared at a photo of Amy and Matt then tore it to pieces. "Why couldn't I be Amy?" she shrieked. "Why?" she felt to her knees, sobbing.

---

Florence stood in the kitchen, with a frying pan. She was cooking Bobby some eggs. Sam had stormed out on her again, leaving a red hand print on her face and several bruises on her stomach.

"Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get a divorce?" Bobby asked innocently.

"No, sweetheart." Florence felt tears well up in her eyes, so she quickly wiped them on the back of her hand. "What makes you think that?" her voice shook.

"You keep arguing," Bobby said glumly.

Florence was silent for a moment, as she put the eggs onto Bobby's plate. "All couples argue." she said, calmly.

"Mr and Mrs Wilkinson don't…" Bobby said.

"How dare you argue with me?" Florence bellowed, her voice quivering. "Go…Go to your room!" she sobbed. Bobby obeyed in silence. Florence sank against the wall and cried.

Yes, every street has its mysteries. Some have dark mysteries which give the inhabitants chills up and down their spine. Others have quiet mysteries, that all mount up to something terrible. And some streets are so mysterious, that not even their neighbours know about them. Appleby Street was a quiet street, but even they had secrets, secrets which could destroy them. And nobody wanted anyone else to find out their secret. But the day Mrs Terri Wilkinson was shot, the lid which kept the street's secrets safe was removed, and life would never be the same again.


	3. Chapter 3: Coping with Grief

**Chapter 3: Coping with Grief**

Grieving a loved one is always a hard time. Yet, there are many different ways to cope with grief. Some may block out all of their friends and family, trying hopelessly to rebuild their life. Some may break down, and need their family and friends more than ever. But in the case of Brad Wilkinson, some decide to approach it from an entirely different angle.

"Mary, Stewart, I have some good news and some bad news," Brad had sat his two children down in the sitting room. Mary and Stewart glanced at each other. They knew something was wrong, as their father was using his impassive voice. Brad Wilkinson never showed his emotions and even though his wife was hospitalised and facing certain death, he wasn't about to start.

"The bad news is…your mother has been shot." he paused, momentarily. "But the good news is that she's still alive,"

Mary shrieked, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh! Who shot her?" she said, the anger in her voice was rising.

"Nobody knows. She's in a coma at the moment."

Brad Wilkinson had found a way to avoid grief altogether. His wife was still alive, but not for much longer. Brad knew that it was up to him, to take control of his life. And Brad loved every second of it.

---

Emily woke up, to find her mystery lover was gone. Shrugging it off, as she always did, Emily decided to visit Mrs Gardener, one of her closest and only friends. Miss Thomas sat down at her make-up table. It would be a few hours before she knew what had transpired that grave morning.

---

It was just after midday, and Ben, Matt, Amy and Ellie were in Matt and Amy's house, discussing what had taken place earlier that day. Ellie was gently rocking baby Charlie, to sleep, who was now two years old.

Amy smiled kindly. Her fifteen-year-old son, Tom, was out with his friends and her young daughter, Catherine, was upstairs playing with Ben and Ellie's son, Kai.

"What could have driven someone, anyone, to murdering Terri?" asked Amy.

"Whoever did it must have done a runner, because the police set up a barrier and nobody left Hinsdale half an hour after the attack." Ben told them.

"Nobody could have left Hinsdale within a half an hour. It's an hour and fifteen minute drive to the next town." Ellie said, shrewdly.

"Unless they had a fast car," Matt added.

"Even then they'd be pushing it." Ben replied. "No, the person who did it must have got out of here somehow,"

"Perhaps they had a helicopter," Amy said brightly.

"Unlikely. We would have heard it" Ellie said, squashing the idea.

So the four friends sat, and pondered. Every idea seemed to be contradicted by some evidence until they stumbled on what seemed the ideal solution.

"What if the person who killed Terri, lives here on Appleby Street?" Ben suggested.

"That sounds…plausible." Ellie agreed. Charlie was sleeping in her arms.  
"It would make sense," Amy added.

"But who on Appleby Street would kill Terri Wilkinson?" Matt probed.

"And what was their motive?" Ellie chimed.

---

Emily knocked at the door of her companion, Catherine Gardener. She looked as if she'd stepped out a magazine and smelt as if she'd stepped out a perfume shop.

"Hello; is anybody in?" she said loudly. There was a jangle of keys, and the white door swung open to reveal Emily's best friend.  
"Hi!" Emily kissed Catherine on each cheek. "How lovely to see you"

The two made an odd set of friends. Emily was tall, thin, beautiful and desirable. Catherine was short, fat, plain and rather dull. But the two shared a fondness for gossip, and they'd sit and chat for hours about the street's chitchat.

"Come in Emily, I have some bad news." Catherine said glumly.

So the tall, thin, blonde, beautiful woman followed Catherine into her house, to discover the horror of Appleby Street.

---

Charlene sat in her bedroom. She looked at a picture of Amy, and knew that if she couldn't be like her, she would have to be her. Charlene dropped the photo of Amy to the floor, listening to the tiny thud it made, and the quiet tinker of breaking glass. Charlene knew what she had to do. She withdrew a knife from her utility drawer and looked at herself in the blade. This was the only way…She lifted up the blade, and hacked away at her hair, tearing away her beautiful golden locks.

---

Terri lay in the hospital bed. She was still awake although her eyes weren't open. She didn't have her senses, but somehow, she could 'see' where everything was. And she knew the worst was about to befall upon her.

Grief, like death, will strike at any time. It can do strange things to different people. Some cry and cry, until their sorrows are drowned by their tears. Some bottle it up, carrying the emotional burden until it destroys them one day. Some claim they are simply unaffected by grief, but they turn out to be so wrong when their lives spiral out of control. Yes, Grief is a strange thing, and can strike at any time. And like death, we can battle grief and win. But some are less fortunate.


	4. Chapter 4: The Trauma of Terri Wilkinson

**Chapter 4: The Trauma of Terri Wilkinson**

Terri Wilkinson remained in that bed for what seemed an eternity but was, in reality, only six hours after she had been shot. And it was she alone, who knew who had pulled the trigger.

Terri wondered if she would ever wake and she wondered about how her husband was coping…

---

Brad Wilkinson was coping surprisingly well when his door bell rung. Marching down the hallway, he followed what could have been his wife's final footsteps. But Brad was prepared. He had the sharpest kitchen knife with him…

---

Benjamin Jones stood outside the Wilkinson residence. Ellie had baked some muffins but Charlie needed feeding so she had sent Ben over. Ben was still a little creeped out that he was stood where Terri's attacker had stood only six or so hours ago.

Ben had almost decided to leave when the door opened.

"Hello my wife and I-" Ben began but Brad cut him off.

"I don't want your charity or your pity. Please go," he said.

Ben opened his mouth to argue but something in the hallway mirror caused him to close his mouth abruptly.

Brad had a knife behind his back.

"Goodbye" Brad said, closing the door.

Ben left the creepy allotment and headed home.

---

Amy and Matt were sat in their Jacuzzi, relaxing. Amy sipped her drink.

"Matt," she began. It was time to tell him.

"Yes?" Matt grunted, closing his eyes as the Jacuzzi bubbles seemed to blank out his less-than-perfect life.

"I have something to tell you," Amy continued, uncertainly. "I'm…pregnant"

Matt gasped. "Oh! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I only found out this morning" Amy lied. She had known for a week, but she was afraid Matt would freak.

"Tom and Catherine will be so pleased." Matt said, kissing Amy on the forehead.

"We should celebrate!" Matt jumped to his feet at the idea.

Amy flinched at the thought of a party. Matt was a different man around alcoholic beverages.

"Tonight. I'll invite some mates" Matt rattled on, ignoring Amy. "We'll have a big bash" Matt droned on.

"I'll go get cooking" Amy said, climbing out the pool and heading towards the house.

---

Ben walked into his house and sank into his armchair.

Sensing something was wrong; Ellie laid the sleeping Charlie in his cot then went downstairs into the Living Room.

"What's wrong, honey?" she asked.

"It seems we don't know our neighbours as well as we thought we did…" Ben growled.

"What do you mean?" Ellie inquired.

Ben merely gestured to the muffin basket.

"What? Is he allergic to blueberry?" Ellie asked.

"No, the muffins were fine. It's just…" Ben told his wife the story about Brad and the knife.

"Oh my gosh" Ellie gasped.  
"It's true," Ben said. "The Wilkinson family has some secrets they don't want people to know."

"Maybe the person who shot Terri knew one of those secrets?" Ellie suggested. Ben shrugged.

"So many mysteries…so many unanswered questions" Ben thought aloud.

---

Charlene sat in her room. Her chest and face were covered in bruises. Her lip was bleeding and most of her hair had been cut so short; it looked as if it had been tore out.

And Charlene laughed. It was all self-inflicted.

"Now…for my plan to begin,"

---

Amy was cooking a curry when the doorbell rang. She left the curry sizzling. Amy walked down the wooden hallway, wondering who would call at this time. She opened the door, timidly.

There stood Charlene, but she looked as if she had been mugged.

"What happened?" Amy gasped.

"My ex-boyfriend beat me up," she said.

"That's awful. Where's Erin?" Amy asked, compassionately.

"She's with my mum," Charlene said quickly.

"O.K." Amy said, unsurely.

"Could I stay here? Just for the night" Charlene said, weakly.

Amy nodded, and Charlene stepped into the house she had always dreamed of owning.

---

"That's awful," Emily said when Catherine had finished her dramatic retelling of Mrs. Wilkinson's story.

"I know," Catherine drank the remainder of her coffee, leaving only the dregs.

The two sat in silence, pondering the fate of their already ill-fated neighbour.

"What time is it?" Emily inquired, after a few minutes of time.

"Half Nine," Catherine said, instantly.

"I see." Emily said. "I must be going," Emily drank the last bit of her own tea and bid her neighbour goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow,"

Catherine watched her neighbour exit her house, and sighed.  
"So little you know," Catherine Gardener said, smiling. In her hand was a piece of paper. The piece of paper would explain the attack on Mrs. Wilkinson. And only Mrs. Gardener knew.

---

Charlene sat in one of the large bedrooms of the Bourne residence. It was decorated in a lovely white. Charlene loved how it smelt of Jasmine, Amy's favourite smell.

Charlene had wormed her way into Amy's life and it was time to get closer to her. Charlene picked up a photo of her idol, and gazed at Amy.

It was a picture of Amy and Matt's wedding day. Amy had lovely long curly hair, and Matt looked rugged and handsome. They were the perfect couple back then, until things had started to deteriorate…

But Charlene knew this perfect image was all a false pretence. She had heard the rows. But she was obsessed with Amy. Charlene would learn everything about Amy then she could become Amy.

Amy walked into the room. "I brought you some of my old clothes to wear. They're not in mint condition, but I hope they'll be better than your torn clothes. And you can use my personal bathroom if you want to scrub up."

Charlene looked at the white blouse with a button missing, and the jeans that were too small for Amy. But she was happy. Charlene nodded.

"I'll do that." Charlene said, smiling.

---

Under the cover of night, a new resident on Appleby Street was moving in. He had dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin and a white smile. He seemed to be the perfect man. He was here for a reason though. And soon he'd be so deeply involved with Terri Wilkinson, he'd discover her many secrets she was hiding from her friends, and from the residents of Appleby Street. He was going to find out if it killed him.

---

As Terri lay in her bed, she could tell she would soon face her killer again. And her killer could be attempting to finish what they'd started. A nurse checked over Terri, noting she was stable, but it was strange she hadn't already died. The wound was deep and it would have killed a normal person, it hadn't killed Terri Wilkinson.

Life is a gift. It can be taken at any moment. But to some, it is a gift, given to them from heaven. Everyone shapes their own life and choose their paths. The people are us help us shape it, whether they are good, bad, or well-meaning. But it is those who affected our lives we turn to when things go wrong. We hope that they will shelter us from reality, and heal our wounds. But some wounds are too deep to heal, and some mysteries are too secret to discover…


	5. Chapter 5: Enter, Mr Dale

**Chapter 5: Enter, Mr Dale**

It was only early Monday morning when the residents of Appleby Street realised they had a new neighbour. The 'For Sale' sign was gone, and the kitchen light was on.

The residents of Appleby Street were known for their kindness, and most always made welcome dishes.

Yes, every last person in Appleby Street loved to be noticed and respected. So when someone new moved in, they would greet him or her and make them feel at home.

The Jones family always brought a basket of Blueberry muffins. It was their trademark. People far and wide knew about Ellie Jones's delicious, blueberry muffins. And as Ben Jones walked into his kitchen, the smell of blueberry muffins filtered through his nostrils and he saw his wife, Ellie, smiling kindly, with a gift basket of muffins in her arms.

The Bourne family always brought over a curry. Amy was as famous as her neighbour, Ellie, when it came to cooking. But where-as Ellie, who stuck to desert and food from packets, Amy loved to make a curry and most of her other meals, from scratch.

Matt stumbled down the stairs, wondering why he could smell something cooking at seven in the morning. There stood Amy, looking well presented, with a curry dish in her hands.

The Gates family always brought a loaf of bread. It wasn't their own work but they didn't care. It was a kind gesture, if rather lame compared to the two aforementioned welcome baskets. But nobody would deliver the Gate's loaf of bread to Mr Dale, as Charlene was at Amy's and her daughter Erin was no where to be found…

The Wilkinson's were the most known for their welcome baskets. Terri Wilkinson used to make a small picnic for a new-comer. There would be her Jam sandwiches, several packets of low-fat crisps, a few cookies she baked and an apple or an orange. But today, Mr Dale would have to survive without these luxuries, as Terri Wilkinson dozed on in her coma, greeting the neighbours was the last thing on Brad's mind.

The Smith family never gave anything away because Sam threatened to kill Florence is she showed a morsel of hospitality. He didn't like the idea of her chatting to other people, especially other men. But as Sam still slept on, Florence had made a basket of fruit and a piece of paper, with some places to visit scribbled on hurriedly. And Mrs. Smith decided she was going to pay her neighbour a visit.

Emily Thomas may have not been known her cooking, but she quickly whipped up a fresh salad. Maybe this mysterious man would also fall in love with her. So Emily Thomas, still wearing her translucent dressing gown, marched out into the street to greet Mr. Dale.

But Mrs. Gardener's house was empty. It was quiet, and not a single light was on. It seemed the busy body wasn't awake or didn't care about the new neighbour. Or maybe, just maybe, she knew the truth behind Mr. Dale…

Ben and his wife Ellie arrived first. Ellie looked at her house, worriedly.

"What's wrong, Ellie?" Ben asked impatiently as they crossed the road to number 14.

"I'm worried about the children," she said quietly.

"They're all sleeping, Ell. We'll be back in five minutes anyway," Ben reasoned with his wife.

"But still, there is a murderer on the loose." Ellie Jones looked as if the murderer could jump out any second.

"They'll be fine" Ben assured her, as they rang the doorbell.

Mr Dale opened the door. "Hello?" Ellie almost melted. He was gorgeous.

"Hi." she said, breathlessly.

"Hello. I'm Ben, and this is my wife, Ellie. Welcome to the neighbourhood" Ben thrust the basket at him. "It's nice to meet you, Mr…?"

"Dale. Mr. Dale. But call me Andrew." he said.  
"Sure," Ellie said, flirtatiously.

Mr Dale smiled, and closed the door.

Ben marched his wife back over to their house. "You're married, remember?" he reminded her.

"I know, I know." Ellie replied grumpily.

"I wonder why he moved in here…" Ben wondered, looking back at the Dale residence, wondering who he was.

---

After the serenade of many people bestowing their welcome gifts to Andrew Dale, their lives went back to those of the normal, dependable suburbia.

---

Matt Bourne was sat in his front garden; trying to sleep off the hangover he had from last night, when an irritating buzzing noise woke him.

Mr Wilkinson was mowing his lawn. Mrs. Wilkinson's prize-winning lawn was being slashed to ribbons and cut to only a few millimetres short. Matt recognized the look on Brad's face; it was anger. And only then did Matt suspect Brad wasn't what he seemed.

---

Ellie and Amy sat in Ellie's conservatory. Ben had taken their kids to the park and Matt was sleeping, so Ellie and Amy had decided to opt for a girly day in. After painting each other's nails in interesting designs: Amy's were purple with swirls and hearts and Ellie's were blue with silver stars, the two sat and gossiped, waiting for their nails to dry.

"Ellie, you are my best friend, so I can trust you completely, can't I?"

"Sure, honey" Ellie sat blowing at the nails on her right hand.

"Ellie. I'm pregnant!" Amy said, excitedly, and the two burst out shrieking.

"Oh, that's wonderful." Ellie said. "Oh, this is lovely. You'll love it. Ben and I were overwhelmed when we had baby Charlie. Three is just the perfect number."

Amy smiled in agreement. "Yes. Yes it is,"

"So, what else is new?" Ellie asked, with a large grin on her face.

"Oh, well, I'm looking after poor Charlene Gates. She was attacked by her ex-boyfriend so I guess she's sleeping off the trauma, so to say,"

---

Charlene Gates was not sleeping off her trauma, as Amy Bourne had predicted. She was stalking about, looking around Amy's bedroom.

Charlene looked at some perfume that belonged to Amy and decided to spray herself with it. It smelt of Pink Lacoste and Charlene loved it. Miss Gates proceeded to look through Amy's drawers, to see if there was anything of value. There was a beautiful silver necklace, with an opal inserted in it, which Matt had bought for her. So Charlene took it. She had to be like Amy. She just had to.

---

Sam woke later that day. His wife was in the kitchen, washing the dishes from breakfast and Bobby was upstairs. Sam sauntered over to his wife and kissed her. Florence smiled, but then something changed. Sam stepped away from her. "You smell of another man," he snapped.

"No I don't, honey" Florence panicked.

"Yes you do! You slut" and Sam smacked her across the face. Florence collapsed in a heap on the floor and whimpered.

"I only went to visit the neighbours…" she protested.

"Liar!" Sam bellowed kicking her in the stomach.

Florence sobbed and sobbed.

"You tart. You're never leaving the house again!" Sam roared.

Love makes us do extraordinary things. We go to such lengths for love, that all else seems irrelevant. But love leads to marriage, and marriage mostly ends up with children, who fall in love. The journey of love isn't always so smooth though. There are some people who take us for a roller coaster ride of emotions. And there are some people who don't love us for being us. Yes, love is important, and it is a virtue needed in the person you love. You can always love someone, but you can't always expect love back.


	6. Chapter 6: The Taste of Revenge

**Chapter 6: The Taste of Revenge**

Ah, Appleby Street; The perfect street. Everyone was so polite and well-mannered. Or so they appeared. But their private lives were far from perfect. They were troubled with guilt, or jealously, or secrets. And as the residents of Appleby Street woke to a new day, so did their troubles. Appleby Street was far from perfect. Behind every door was a secret, and if you looked closely, you could find them out. And Secrets tend to come out, when you least expect them.

Florence Smith had always been the perfect wife. On her wedding day, everything went to plan and the wedding was like a pleasant dream. When she was pregnant with Bobby, she had the 'pregnant glow' and always seemed radiant, kind and selfless. When her father had died, she had been the perfect daughter and organized the funeral with help from no one.

So when Sam Smith had told his wife she was not allowed to leave the house, Florence decided she had to do something to remove her troublesome husband. Nothing had ever stopped her getting her way, but she would have to make Sam pay for years of merciless beatings.

Florence knew her husband had a heart condition called 'cardiac arrhythmias', which made his heart pump less effectively. The doctor had said he wasn't allowed an overdose of Niacin in his body or he could die. And Florence knew there were sufficient amounts of Niacin in mushrooms for her plan.

Florence did not feel regret as she began to chop the mushrooms into tiny pieces, and mix them in with his porridge. She did not shake when she handed him his breakfast. In fact, Mrs. Smith showed no signs of anything been different. But inside, she was happy. Finally, the tables had turned.

---

Mr Andrew Dale had always been a quiet man. He was used to living in the countryside, with his faithful cat, Tibbles. But when he arrived on Appleby Street, the usual suburban situation did not apply. Neighbours were quiet and polite and Mr Dale had realised that he wasn't really away from the countryside, but rather in an urban version of it.

As he read the morning newspaper, he noticed the story of Terri Wilkinson's horrible attack was plastered over the front page. He took his time to absorb the biased media before him, and acknowledged who had written it. He made a small note on his hand with a biro lying on the table then returned to reading the newspaper.

---

If you listened carefully, you could hear whispers when you passed each house on Appleby Street. But if you listened closely outside Charlene Gates house, you would have heard a lot more.

"Help!" cried a small voice from within the Gates family household. But no body could hear the voice, and life went on as usual, ignoring the small, delicate details of life. Not one neighbour even paused for a moment and thought _"Where was Erin Gates?"_

---

Amy Bourne was making toast for her family when she noticed some strange things. For one, the change box; a small box where she stored loose change; was on it's side and empty. She also noticed her husband's car keys were missing from the Key Rack. She could smell, above the smell of burning toast, a faint, sickly smell of smoke. And she noticed the bin lid wouldn't close.

Edging slowly towards the bin, Amy couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't noticed these small details earlier. Amy pressed her bare foot on the cool metal of the pedal to open the bin, and she gasped at what she saw. Inside were an empty cigarette packet and a broken wine bottle. She suddenly shivered, noticing how cold the kitchen had gotten.

"Mom?" She turned around and saw her teenage son was stood there.

"Oh…morning honey," she said, a fake smile over her face.

Life had been perfect for Amy. But she knew that Matt Bourne was hiding something from her.

---

Back at number 12, the Wilkinson children were encountering the major disadvantages of their mother being in hospital.

"Dad, I have netball practise today, could you take me?" Mary Wilkinson asked her father that morning.

"I can't. I have work to do," Brad snapped, as he rummaged through the fridge for some food. "You'll have to walk,"

"But Mum always takes me in the car…" Mary protested.

"Well, your mum's not with us, is she?" Brad snapped, finding the glass bottle of milk at the back of the refrigerator.

"It's a two mile walk!" Mary said, raising her voice slightly.

"Well you'll just have to walk it then!" Brad said. He placed the milk on the table and started looked for something to eat.

"I won't make it there in time!" Mary argued.

"Shut up and do as your damn told!" Brad Wilkinson smacked his fist on the table, causing the bottle of milk to fall to the floor and shatter.

"Just go," Brad growled, and Mary and Stewart obeyed without hesitation. Their father had never been an aggressive man.

But they were wrong.

Yes, Brad Wilkinson had a past he wanted no one to find out. But nothing stays secret on Appleby Street.

---

Terri lay in bed, wondering and waiting. She knew her husband wasn't coping well and she knew her death would send shockwaves throughout the community. But she wasn't ready to die; At least, not yet.

---

Emily Thomas knocked on the door of Mr. Dale's house. She wondered about the mysterious man, who seemed to fit the fulfilments of being tall, dark and handsome. But Emily wondered if there was more to him than a smooth face and bright blue eyes.

Andrew opened the door, smiling. "Hello,"

"Hi, I'm Emily. I live at number 18 and I just wanted to say welcome to the street…"

Andrew Dale stared at her.

"…So, welcome," Emily finished lamely.

"Thanks," Andrew said, about to close the door.

Emily put a foot in the doorway. "If you need anything, just come and ask," she said, seductively.

"Right. I'll bare that in mind." Andrew said.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you move your foot?" Andrew finally said.

Emily obliged, moving her foot out of the door frame. Andrew grinned then closed the door, leaving Mrs. Thomas alone on the doorstep.

---

Ben Jones and his wife, Ellie, were sat in the kitchen drinking tea when they heard the letterbox go. It was unusual to receive post at one in the afternoon, but Ben got to his feet, retrieved their post and returned to the kitchen.

"This is odd…" Ben began.

"What is?" Ellie said, sipping her tea.

"It's not in an envelope. It's not even addressed to us. It's just a scrap of paper." Ben told his wife, who nodded.

"What does it say?" she inquired, curiously.

Ben unfolded the paper. "It says 'I know what you did, Terri. I know all about what you did. You disgust me. If you don't confess, I will kill you.'"

Ellie clamped a hand over her mouth. "This means…"

"She wasn't the harmless victim of that attack. She was the target" Ben finished gravely.  
"Why though?" Ellie thought aloud. "Why?"

---

It was late afternoon, and Ben and Ellie had decided to visit the Bournes, regarding the letter.

"And the letter said: 'I know what you did, Terri. I know all about what you did. You disgust me. If you don't confess, I will kill you.'" Ben finished his retelling of their eventful afternoon.

"That's awful." Amy said.

"As awful as it is, we now can guess their motive was something Terri did" Ellie concluded.

"But what did Terri do? She's a nice person, and she'd never do anything like kill somebody" Amy said, desperately re-reading the letter as if it were a joke.

"Well, I don't know what she did, but Brad's been acting real strange lately," Matt told them.

"He has?" Ellie asked, curiously.

"Yeah," Matt replied, telling them what he'd saw the previous afternoon.

"Peculiar. I saw him trying to wash away Terri's blood on the morning she was shot." Ben added.

The four friends looked at the letter before them, and thought of their fifth friend. Only Terri knew who shot her, but it was clear that Brad knew something. And more than he was letting on.


	7. Chapter 7: All or Nothing

**Chapter 7: All or Nothing**

The desire to succeed was the one common goal which linked the individual residents of Appleby Street. Children learned from their parents that a good job was an essential part of life. Adults always seek to succeed in everything. But nobody can have everything. And unfortunately, that's a lesson we don't learn till we're grey and old.

Matt Bourne was not always the depressed man he was now. As a baby, he had been idyllic. Everyone would stop by his pram and say how handsome he was. As a young boy, he was always cheerful, had a lot of friends and wanted to be a vet. But things began to spiral out of control in his teenage years.

He had first started smoking when he was fourteen. It had been a way to deal with the stress of school, homework and home troubles. It was two years later when he'd become reliant on the nicotine to sort out his problems. It was his eighteenth birthday when he'd mixed in with the wrong crowd, and ended up in prison for smoking marijuana.

Since then, his friends and family believed he was a changed man. He was far from changed. As well as owing over £9,000 in bills for drugs he'd bought, he was steadily relying on alcohol and cigarettes again to solve his problems. And his wife didn't know, but Matt hadn't slept in days and the dealers were threatening to take more than money from him if he didn't cough it up soon.

So Matt did the only thing he knew best. He lied to his wife, stole money from her and paid off some of his bills. Then he decided to slow down his disastrous day and took a long drag on his cigarette. Matt was happy.

---

Charlene Gates had always been a private woman. Her relationships were never the street gossip. Her new looks were never discussed. Her teenage daughter was never brought up in conversation. Yes, Charlene was a secretive woman.

Charlene woke up earlier than usual that morning. She couldn't remember why. Getting out of bed, Charlene considered what she would do today. As she rubbed her eyes, she caught a glance at herself in the mirror. She reached a hand to her head, noting the jagged hair ends. And she grinned.

Charlene crept across the landing and into Amy's bedroom, with dark ideas in mind and sharp scissors in hand. She edged towards her idol, and looked at the sleeping woman. She looked so peaceful and beautiful. Charlene took the scissors, and snipped a small lock of the golden haired woman's curls off. Pleased with her work, Charlene returned to bed.

---

Florence was in the kitchen preparing breakfast once more. Humming merrily to herself, Mrs Smith was proud to have found yet another way to increase her husband's Niacin overdose. After some laborious research, in the early hours of the morning, on her computer, Florence had found several other items of food which contained Niacin.

After learning that chicken had Niacin in, Florence had ran to the shops, and selected the chicken which had the most Niacin in. Cooking a leg in the microwave, Florence was making her husband a chicken sandwich this morning. While she waited for the chicken to heat up, she began to make some biscuits, but not just any biscuits. These were full of bran, which was also a threat to her husband if overdosed.

As the pieces of Florence's plan fell into place, she heard distant sounds upstairs. Her husband was awake. Quickly removing the leg from the microwave and the biscuits from the cooker, Florence rushed about slicing and serving.

By the time Sam was downstairs; in his breakfast place were a nice warm chicken sandwich and a plate of biscuits.

"Sorry honey, we're out of cereal and I need the remainder of the bread for Bobby's packed lunch" Florence said quickly, busying herself in the fridge. There was a moment's silence, before Florence heard Sam begin to tuck in. She grinned. Everything was going to plan.

---

Erin Gates was shackled up in her house. She had been there for two days, and was starving. Bound to the floor by rope, she had been beaten black and blue by her own mother. Erin never thought that her mum would go to extreme lengths for her obsession. But she was wrong. And everything else was about to go wrong for Erin.

"Help," she sobbed, hoarse from shrieking for assistance for the last 48 hours. Her wrists were red and sore when she'd tried to get free from the ropes. "Somebody…help me…" she cried.

---

Andrew Dale knocked on the door of Mr Harrison. He was several miles from his home, and had only a newspaper in his hands. The door opened to reveal a short man, with greying hair, and a moustache. "Yes?" he murmured.

"Mr Harrison?" Andrew asked.

"Yes?" the man identified himself.

Andrew pulled out a gun.

"I didn't like your newspaper story," Andrew said. The man was obviously going blind as he hadn't flinched when the gun had appeared.

"Which one?" asked the naïve old man.  
"The one about Terri Wilkinson" Andrew added and pulled the trigger.

A silver bullet was loaded directly into Mr Harrison's left lung. The man crumpled up and whimpered. Andrew pocketed the gun and headed home.

---

Ben and Ellie Jones were sat in their living room, considering the note which was in Ben's pocket.

"There has to be something we don't know" Ben concluded, sipping his tea.

"Or we haven't seen yet," Ellie suggested.

"I guess so," Ben said, offhandedly.

"Who would shoot Terri though? Nobody in this street would murder someone else," Ellie said, drinking her own tea.

"I wouldn't put it past that new guy, Andrew" Ben said darkly.

"He seems harmless enough," Ellie said, defensively.

"So did Brad"

The two continued to sit in silence, drinking their tea. Time was running out before Terri died. If only they'd bothered to ask Mrs. Gardener, but for their nosey neighbour, time was already up.

---

Mrs. Gardener was in her cosy home when suddenly life turned on her.

She was busy, wondering aloud, why Terri Wilkinson was luckier than her. She had a husband, a family and friends. Yes, what Catherine lacked would kill her.

She heard the door opened, but assumed it was Emily.

"I'm in the kitchen" she called to what she presumed was her friend. But any murder victim will tell you that presumptions are wrong. And Catherine's presumption would kill her.

There was a loud bang and Catherine's life ended, with the last thing on her mind being _'Why is Terri Wilkinson luckier than me?'_

---

It was lunchtime when Amy received the single greatest shock of her life.

She was preparing a curry in the kitchen when she heard voices in the hallway. Pressing her ear against the door, she heard the voices of Charlene and her husband.

"Charlene…no…I'm married," Amy heard her husband protest.

"Nothing like that's ever stopped you before, Matthew," Charlene replied, seductively.

"What do you mean?" Matt stuttered.

"In High School, remember? You and I really hit it off," Charlene said, and Amy heard floorboards creak as her neighbour got closer to the man Amy loved.

"I…don't know what you mean…" Matt stammered.

"C'mon. You know what I'm on about." Charlene whispered. "You're the father of my child. You're Erin's dad."

Amy screamed, and the conversation ended. Matt flung the door open, to see his wife in the kitchen, glaring at him.

"How dare you?" she shrieked at him. "Get out my house!" she bellowed, and Matt obliged instantly.

"And you!" Amy rounded on Charlene. Raising one hand, Mrs. Bourne slapped Charlene with all the strength she could muster, leaving a red handprint on her neighbours face. "Get out! I never want to see you again!"

---

As marriages were under threat, a new love blossomed into life.

Nadine Jones was in her mother's garden, reading, when she saw her first true love on the garden of their neighbour, Tom Bourne.

He was tall, muscular, and handsome. He had his father's hedgehog hair, but his mother's warm blue eyes and gentle smile. He was stood, topless, mowing the lawn, as Nadine continued to watch him and his burly six-pack.

"Hey," he mouthed to her, grinning shyly.

"Hello." Nadine whispered, blushing scarlet.

Even when relationships were under strain, new ones were already being formed.

---

Terri was in hospital when she knew her killer had struck again. Terri nodded and closed her eyes.

There nurse monitoring her suddenly noticed that Terri's blood levels had dropped and she was unconscious.

So Terri laid there, her life balanced on the scales before her…

When we are just a baby, our parents want the world for us. As a child, we seek both happiness and wealth. As a teenager, we want acceptance and as an Adult, all we seek is money. But only the grey and old know our efforts are in vain. And sometimes, even the most independent of us, need to admit: It's time to grow up.


	8. Chapter 8: Children are the Future

**Chapter 8: Children are the Future**

Children are precious gifts bestowed upon us. The knowledge that you will shape this baby's life is remarkable, and when a baby is born, new life and hope are restored to a dark world, making it seem a little less unbearable. We pour our hearts into our children, help them to grow and climb. But even when we are gone, our children remember us, and how we changed their life and made it worth while.

Yes, Children are the future.

Charlene Gates obsession with Amy Bourne had begun several years ago, when she lived on Pearview Avenue. Charlene had been a hard-working vet-to-be, and Amy had been the wife of a successful Veterinary Doctor. They'd met at a party. Amy, suspecting her husband was being unfaithful, quizzed the young student and that was when Charlene fell in love with Mrs. Bourne.

Charlene still kept a locket around her neck, with a photo of Amy, the night she'd first met her. Charlene had cut out Matt from the picture, leaving on Amy. Whenever she needed guidance, Charlene just looked at her locket and knew what to do.

Then, the obsession became intense. Amy and Matt moved away after they'd had their first child, little baby Tom. Charlene remained in Pearview Avenue for several years, slowly becoming richer and richer. But money mattered not to Charlene. All that mattered was Mrs Bourne.

So Charlene spent millions of pounds on tracing Amy to Appleby Street, when she found her obsession had given birth to another child; Baby Catherine. Charlene bought the house next door, and had lived, until this day, in secret worship of her neighbour.

But her life was about to come crumbling down.

---

Amy Bourne was sat in her Jacuzzi when she realised what had happened. Putting a hand on her stomach, she wondered whether she should forgive her husband's infidelity from all those years ago.

After much consideration, Amy couldn't seem to forgive her husband, as the two had been dating when he'd slept with Charlene. Mrs Bourne climbed out the floor, and slipped her wedding ring off her finger. Then, she decided to visit her neighbour.

---

Florence Smith was in the kitchen, cooking her husband some omelettes. She was pleased with herself, as her plan was going perfectly. Her husband's niacin overdose was gradually increasing and she had not been beaten in the last few days.

But today was not going to plan as she would soon find out.

Florence turned round, to shout Bobby that his breakfast was ready, only to find herself facing her husband.

"You've done something to my meals, haven't you?" asked Sam, who was covered in hideous boils.

Florence froze for a moment. Her brain was working at top speed, thinking, searching for a way out of this. She suddenly saw a mushroom on the worktop and she had an idea.

"I'm sorry Sam!" she lied, fake tears welling in her eyes. "I put some herbs in your soup yesterday. They were on sale, so I bought them. I didn't think you'd have an allergic reaction."

Florence waited for her husband to react. She expected she would be beaten, as usual, but her dim-witted husband swallowed this lie, as easily as he ate the mushrooms she gave him.

"I'm sorry," he said, hugging her. Florence smiled weakly. Her niacin plan wasn't working quickly enough. She had to find another way to dispatch of her husband. Then, she saw the light.

Another plan had come to life in her mind.

"Sam, sweetie, why don't you go run a bath? Maybe it'll help the boils go down?" Florence suggested, and her husband left the room.

It was at that moment, when Mrs Smith finally realised there was no room for error. She had to murder her spouse. She went into the living room, and heard the sounds of a bath being run. She saw the words 'Death by Electrocution' on the front of the newspaper and had an idea. Grabbing a lamp, she headed upstairs…

---

Matt woke up to find himself in Charlene's bedroom. The two were entwined together, in a loving embrace.

It was at that moment, when Matt realised, he'd done it again. He'd left his wife for his next door neighbour.

But it would be nine months later, when Matt realised what his unfaithfulness had caused.

---

Ellie Jones was cooking when her doorbell rang that Tuesday afternoon.

"I'll get it," Ben called from upstairs, and Ellie finished stirring her stew. Nobody called on a Tuesday afternoon without an invitation.

Unless something was wrong.

Ben opened the door and found Amy stood in their porch. Her make-up was slightly smudged, and her eyes were red, as if she'd being crying.

"Amy-?"

His neighbour fell forward into his arms, and cried into his chest.

Ben nodded patiently, and patted her on the head.

They weren't just neighbours anymore. They were friends.

---

Emily Thomas was sat at home, wondering why Catherine hadn't returned any of her phone calls. So she decided to take some action.

Grabbing her key to her best friend's house, Emily pulled a coat over her crop-top and mini skirt, then marched to see what had become of her neighbour.

The door to Mrs. Gardener's home opened with ease, as it always had. Emily looked around the gloomy hallway. She wondered to herself why her neighbour had neglected the job of turning on her lights. So Emily flicked on the hallway lamp, to see her neighbour sprawled out on the floor. Dead.

---

Brad Wilkinson was stood in the hospital, waiting to see his wife. He'd left his children at their grandmothers and decided to talk to his wife.

"You may see her now," said a blonde nurse. Brad nodded, and entered the room.

"Terri," he glided to his spouse's side.

Though she didn't move, Terri knew he was here.

"Terri," he repeated. "I've missed you so much," he kissed her on the forehead.

"Everyone's been asking questions, I don't know what to do. Ever since Sophie was killed…" he trailed off when he saw the blonde nurse had entered the room.  
"She was our dog." he lied quickly, and the nurse nodded.

Brad leant closer to Terri and whispered in her ear; "People are getting suspicious, Especially Catherine Gardener. She always was a nosey neighbour."

He straightened up, grinning. "But she's been taking care of."

Terri understood completely.

"Goodbye Terri," he said, exiting the room.

The blonde nurse watched him leave. "Sophie wasn't your dog, was she?" she asked the dozing woman.

No, Sophie wasn't a canine companion. Sophie had been Terri's child.

---

Sam was in the bath tub, his eyes closed, relaxing. "Aaah..." he sunk into the bubbles. His boils had begun to shrink.

Florence entered the bathroom, with the lamp in her hand. With his eyes closed, he didn't notice his wife plug in the lamp and put it on the side of the bath.

But he opened his eyes when the light turned on.  
"What are you playing at?" he demanded, beginning to rise from the bath.

"I'm Sorry," Florence sobbed, pushing the lamp in the bath tub.

Sam screamed, electricity filling his body, thousands of volts entered his blood stream, and the water sparked dangerously. Florence whimpered desperately, as her husband's body began to spasm, shaking violently. Then, he stopped movement all together. Florence Smith took a deep breath and unplugged the lamp. Then, she pulled it out the bath tub, went down stairs and disposed of it in the rubbish bin outside.

Then, she returned to the kitchen and began to chop up some tomatoes for her supper.

She had murdered her own husband. And she'd never felt so relieved.

---

Andrew Dale was in his kitchen when the doorbell rang. He got up and crossed the room to his door. He opened the door and he felt his jaw drop.

"Hello Brother,"

Children are the future. They are brought into our life, and change it forever. But some children affect us more than ever. Some are born to make her our lives have meaning. Some are born to test our morality. Some are born to teach us. And some are born to allow us to love someone. But the most special babies are found in the most unique circumstances, especially when they are unplanned. And we wonder, _'Why did we do what we did?'_

Because Children are the future.


	9. Chapter 9: New Beginnings

**Chapter 9: New Beginnings**

The world is full of loss. Many people suffer countless blows, as the people they love are lost. There will always be loss, so long as there is hope. As much suffering we encounter, new beginning always rescue us from despair. They reach out to us in our time of need, and we are ready to try again. But even the freshest of new beginnings don't work, and there will always be loss in our world.

Amy had always been a happy person. As a child, she'd laughed and played. As she grew up, she always saw the positive side to everything. Even after she married Matt, she looked past his drinking habits and saw life how it was meant to be seen.

But as life grew on, Amy struggled to wear a smile on her face. Life had worn her out, and her smile was becoming weaker. That was until Amy Bourne found out she was pregnant.

Of all the joys in this world, Amy loved children. She was deemed the perfect mother, as she was selfless and loving. So Amy sat in the bathroom, waiting. Her first test had been positive, but Amy believed she needed a reassuring. So she sat and waited.

Amy checked her watch, and smiled. It was time. She checked the pregnancy test and gasped. Her eyes leaked tears and she sat in a stunned silence, dropping the test on the floor.

It was negative.

---

Florence went into the bathroom for the second time that evening. She had a large bag in her hands and was hoping to remove the remaining evidence. But she couldn't see her husband's body and began to panic.

His deceased corpse was missing from the bath tub which she had left him in and she began to worry. Where had her husband gone?

---

As Ellie Jones walked down her garden path to dispose of the rubbish, she saw a handsome man on Mr. Dale's lawn. He had wild, blonde hair and daring blue eyes. His chest was muscular under the white shirt he wore. He grinned cheekily at her and Ellie melted instantly. He was gorgeous.

Feeling a little more daring than she would usually, Ellie waved politely at him, resisting the urge to go and speak to him.

"Lovely evening isn't it?" he said. Ellie felt her bones turn to jelly. His accent made him sound both smart and sexy. Ellie nodded and then disposed of her rubbish, turning sharply and heading back to her residence.

---

Florence was in the kitchen. She was busying herself, cleaning the kitchen worktops. Her husband was gone and she was worried. Florence suddenly noticed her ring. She slipped it off her hand and pocketed it. Then, she heard the door swing open. She turned around, and her eyes nearly fell out their sockets.

Her first reaction was to scream when saw her husband. Sam was stood naked in the kitchen door way, with only a towel preserving any modesty remaining. His hair had fallen out in clumps and his skin was badly damaged. But he was alive.

Florence ran towards the back door, but Sam leapt in front of her. He pushed her and she shrieked, falling back against the fridge. She was breathing heavily, wondering what her husband wanted.

"You killed me…" Sam whispered.

"You're not dead," Florence sobbed.

"No. But you'll be." Sam said, approaching her with a glint of menace in his cold, dark eyes.

Florence looked into Sam's eyes, wondering why she'd married him. There was no trace of the man she loved in those cold dark eyes. Her hand frantically stretched out behind her looking for something to defend herself with. Then, she found what she needed: A knife.

Florence held it behind her back, feigning fear as her husband approached her.

"It's the end of the line for you, sweetheart" Sam said, a foot away from Florence,  
"I disagree," Florence said, and she pulled out the knife. For the second time today, Sam looked mortified when his wife killed him, but this time, Florence stabbed him directly in the heart.

Blood gushed out her spouses wounds, and Florence shrieked as the blood stained her clothes and hands. But Sam fell to the floor, already dead.

"What have I done?" Florence wondered, looking over her husband's dead body.

---

Emily sobbed into the shoulder of a muscular police officer. As soon as she'd found her dead best friend, Emily had alerted the Police and called for an Ambulance. She'd lost her only friend, but she couldn't help but wonder who had killed her?

Emily watched a blonde man pull a white blanket over Catherine's body and watched him wheel her out. The police smiled kindly at her, and also left. Emily sighed. What would she do now? The policeman had told her to go home and rest.

But Emily remained, and looked around the cluttered living space of her neighbour. She was searching for evidence. The blonde was about to resign to bed when all of a sudden, clues seemed to jump out at her.

She spotted a tape, which was labelled 'Sophie'. Emily frowned. Catherine had no daughter, and no relatives, who were called Sophie. So Emily took a closer look. But the tape was no use. The magnetic tape had been torn out and cut to ribbons. Emily sighed, and looked around once more. Then she saw a piece of paper.

She glided across the room, and picked it up.

'_I know what you did, Terri. I know all about what you did. You disgust me. If you don't confess, I will kill you.'_

Emily gasped. "Oh my god," she whispered, and a photo slipped out. It was a young girl, about five years old. She was pretty, with long, golden locks and green eyes. She resembled someone Emily knew. Then, the woman turned over the photograph and discovered the girl's identity.

"Sophie Wilkinson?" Emily wondered then she noticed a stain on the photo. It was red.  
"Oh my god," Emily shrieked.

It was blood.

---

Charlene Gates knocked on Amy's door. She was very happy, after discovering she was pregnant again, and like the first time, it was Matt's. The doorbell rang three times, but it didn't stir Amy.

She was sat in the darkness of her living room, with the television on. She sat eating Ice Cream, watching home movies flash before. There was Matt, and Tom. They were both laughing and playing. Then she saw herself, pregnant with baby Catherine. Amy felt more tears run down her face as she thought of her lost baby.

The doorbell rang again, and Amy roused from her trance. She got up and answered the door, in her husband's clothing. It was slightly baggy on her.

"Hello," she said; her voice hoarse.

"Hello Amy," Charlene replied, and the other woman looked up.

"What are you doing here? Get off my property," Amy said, anger in her voice.

"I just came to tell you I'm pregnant." Charlene said politely. "And it's Matt's"

Something exploded inside Amy.

"You little whore!" she bellowed, and punched her neighbour in the face. Charlene stepped backwards, her face scarlet and her nose bleeding.

"You're jealous," she said, before Amy delivered another blow to the other woman.

"The hell I am," Amy roared sarcastically, hitting Charlene in the stomach.

"You can't face your cheating husband is sleeping with me!" Charlene cried, excited. Amy elbowed Charlene in the gut, then punching her in the face.

Miss Gates wobbled dangerously in her red high-heels.

"You cow." Charlene hissed.

Mrs Bourne felt her common sense implode. She knocked the other woman off her feet and began to beat Charlene to a bloody pulp.

Matt ran out and pulled his wife off his lover. Charlene lay, bleeding and whimpering while Amy was breathing heavily, tears in her eyes. "Go back to where you came from." Charlene whispered, and Amy ran off into the street.

Her body carried her to the sidewalk, when she collapsed. There was the sound of rubber on road, and a loud engine. Not daring to look up, Amy closed her eyes…

---

Brad sat by the river. It was sunset and he watched the red sky turn orange, then pink and finally become blue. He sighed. The evening breeze was cool, and Brad relaxed. He looked around; checking no one was watching, then he dropped a large cardboard box into the river.

If he'd turned around, he would have seen some of the contents spill out. A photograph of a pretty blonde haired girl, and a rattle fell out. He continued towards his car, as a pillow labelled 'Sophie' fell from the box. And as he climbed in his car, the box opened up, and the water around it turned a sinister red. Brad returned home, no longer worried by his secret.

But the one thing Brad didn't know was that Ben Jones had watched him dispose of the box. And Brad didn't see Mr. Jones gather the contents and head back home.

These were the pieces of the puzzle which Ben needed, to understand the Wilkinson secret. But a small scrap of paper escaped Ben: The scrap of paper which would have revealed Terri's killer, and their motive. If only he'd stopped and looked…

---

Amy woke and she was in a strange house. It was poorly lit, the windows were grimy and there was clutter all around. She sat up, and could smelt musky cologne in the air. Wondering how she'd got here, Mrs. Bourne stood up, the warm blanket slipping onto the floor.

"I made you a cup of coffee," a voice said, and Amy turned. Mr Dale was stood there, with a steaming mug of coffee, like he'd promised. Amy accepted it, and drank it without question.  
"How did I get here?" she finally asked.

"I nearly ran you over," he said with a chuckle. "Poor you. You were laid on the sidewalk, not moving."

Amy nodded. "So are you O.K.?" Andrew asked. Amy had never felt so appreciated by someone. Andrew sat down.

"Yes…I guess" Amy said, and suddenly she noticed how handsome her neighbour was. "Andrew?" she asked.

"Yes?"

Amy struggled to speak what was on her mind. The two drew closer to each other until Amy could see every line on Andrew's face. Their lips pressed against each other, and Amy Bourne closed her eyes. At last, she finally felt at peace.

Yes, so long as there is loss, there will be hope. No matter how horrible our losses seem, there is always new beginnings. There will always be hope for what's to come. There will always be trust in the ones we love. There will always be lust for those we admire. And there will always be suffering as we seek new hope. Yes, with loss, there is hope. They go hand in hand. New beginnings will always be a part of life. But loss will be lurking, right around the corner…


	10. Chapter 10: Meaningless Promises

**Chapter 10: Meaningless Promises**

We all make promises. We promise we'll do better next time. We promise we won't spend all our money at once. But promises can be broken. And so, we promise not to break our promises. Thus the circle continued, and promises and lies become one and our lives seem meaningless and grey, until somebody adds colour…

Ellie Jones had always remained faithful to her husband. When the two were dating, she was offered his handsome cousin, but she declined.

When the two got married, she was offered his gorgeous best friend, but she rejected him.

When the two had Nadine, she was offered his attractive older brother, but she turned down him.

Ellie Jones had always been faithful to Ben. But that Sunday morning caused everything to change with the arrival of Alex Dale.

Ellie was collecting the post when she looked over at Andrew Dale's lot. It was very shady and mysterious, so she stood there for a few minutes wondering why he'd moved here. Then, Alex arrived.

The door opened, and a man in a leather jacket, showing his toned chest and six-pack, and blue, torn jeans stepped out into the morning sunlight.

"Morning," he said cheerfully, and Ellie felt her heart beat quicken. For the fifth time in her adult life, she was falling in love with another man.

"Morning," she replied. She made a deal of collecting the post and the milk bottle.  
"How are you?" he called back, and she turned around, smiling, glad to see he was still there.

"I'm…fine." she said. There was a moment where Ellie gazed at his chest before he spoke.  
"What's your name? I'm Alex Dale"  
"Ellie. Ellie Jones" she replied breathlessly.

He grinned. Ellie blushed. "See you," Mrs. Jones said before quickly returning to her house.

And then, she peeked back out the window and for the first time, questioned her own faithfulness.

---

Amy woke up the next day, with a contempt look on her face and a man beside her. The first golden rays of morning lit up the bedroom. Then, a wave of morning sickness took over her and she rushed to the bathroom, leaving Andrew to wake up alone, with only the sound of retching to greet him…

---

Terri was lay with her eyes closed, when she heard the door open. She wondered if it was a nurse, but the apprehensive footsteps unnerved her.

"Hello Terri," whispered a voice. Terri felt as if someone had shot her all over again. The person who had pulled the trigger, and began all this, was stood in the same room.

It was a dark and cold room on mornings. Often, Terri would wake to find herself covered in goosebumps, and if she could, she would have shivered.

The person edged closer. "I hope you're well,"

Terri tried to make a noise, a movement, something to attract attention. But the person didn't seem to notice her futile efforts.  
"Look after yourself. Next time, you won't be so lucky" the voice told her, and Terri felt the dark presence leave. She sighed with relief. But she wondered about his cryptic message. And his even more cryptic threat. And she could help but wonder, _'next time?'_

---

It was mid-afternoon when Ben Jones called over his neighbours to explain his discoveries. It had been a morning of passion, lust and hangovers, but Mr Jones was unaware of all these. All he cared about, what a photograph and a girl named Sophie Wilkinson.

Matt and Amy settled down into the comfortable base sofa in the sitting room, as Ben opened up the cardboard for the second time today. He noted that Amy and Matthew were quite happy to occupy opposite ends of the couch, and no give it a moment's thought. He waited for his wife to return from feeding Kai, and then began.

"I found these by the lake in the park yesterday. Brad Wilkinson was trying to dispose of them" Ben said, carefully spreading the contents out on his dining room table. Ellie turned her nose up at the clutter. She loved cleanliness and it was taking all her mental strength to not try to clean up this assortment of pictures and letters.

"This," Ben said, brandishing a picture of a pretty blonde haired girl. "Is Sophie Wilkinson. I think she was Terri's daughter"

The three friends looked at what he was telling them and noticed the similarities to Brad and Terri, as well as some strange features that belonged to neither of them. But the resemblance was almost unmistakable.

"That's impossible. After Stewart, she was told she couldn't have children anymore," Ellie recalled.

"She became infertile." Amy said, exasperated.

"Well, explain this," he said, and pulled out a rattle, with blue and yellow stripes.  
"The rattle could have been anyone's." Ellie dismissed it.

"But why was Brad trying to hide it?" Ben inquired.

"Perhaps it was Stewart or Mary's?" Amy suggested coolly.

"Even if this was possible, it would mean that Terri had a seven year old daughter, who mysteriously disappeared off the face of the Earth" Matt concluded.

"Not if she was killed," Ben said darkly.

"Ben…" Ellie said, looking nervously. "Terri and Brad wouldn't kill their own child,"  
"Then explain this," Ben said, retrieving a silver revolver from the box. "Five bullets missing, I counted" he continued, and the three stared in dismay.  
There was silence, as the three tried to take in what he was saying.

"I found two more things" he said, extracting a pillow and another photo from the box. The pillow was white, and the name Sophie had been written in elegant script, with a red rose to the left of it. The photo was of a blonde woman, around Terri's age, who looked very pretty indeed.

"Who is it?"

"The only thing on the back is a 5…" Ben drifted off. And the dark mystery seemed even more mysterious, but the answer was right under their noses…

---

It was tea-time when the police raided Charlene's house.

There had been a complaint yesterday about strange screaming coming from the usually quiet home of the Gates. Regarding it as a wild animal, the police ignored the phone call by Catherine Gardener. But they found her body dead, and another phone call sharpened their suspicions.

The police had been informed that a loud wailing and a scream had woken neighbours in the early hours of the morning. Charlene's business was naturally private but today was an exception. The first of many to come.

The whole street poked their noses out their windows as the loud sirens burst into the peaceful street. And as the men in blue pulled up outside the Gate's household, suspicions were aroused and many neighbours decided their gardeners needed a little extra attention. So the people of Appleby Street went outside to listen in on their neighbours business.

There were three sharp knocks against the door. Charlene opened it meekly.

"Hello?" she said, confused by this sudden arrival.

"Miss Gates, We are under orders to search your house after several complaints of loud noises during the times of 1 am till 5 Am." the first policeman said.

Charlene continued to look puzzled, but allowed the authorities in.

The two saw the door to the basement and smiled kindly, when they heard a quiet whimper. Intrigued, the two policemen drew closer, and heard the faint voice of Erin Gates.

"_Help..._" she whispered quietly.

The second policeman tore back the rug and hoisted open the trap door. And Erin crawled out of the dusty cellar, in the worst state imaginable.

Her eyes were so badly bruised, that they were nearly closed. Her face was pale, and gaunt-looking. Her hair had been cut unevenly, and looked as if it hadn't been washed for days. There was dried blood on her lip and nose, and it looked as if some skin from her neck had peeled away. She was crawling and the two policemen noted the cuts and half-healed scabs on her arms. Her shirt was torn and her trousers were ripped. She looked in tremendous amounts of pain. She clutched her chest, weeping, which was later discovered to be several broken rips.

She stumbled forward and passed out. Charlene felt anger gush out her body, but didn't dare show anything. She collected her thoughts and another great idea filled her.

She rushed forward, feigning sadness and horror. "Oh, my little girl, I thought I'd lost you!" Charlene shrieked.

"You didn't know where your daughter was," the first policeman asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes…" Charlene said, thinking quickly. "I left her with my mum when my ex-boyfriend beat me up but I heard that he came and kidnapped her. I had no idea he'd hidden her here"

The policeman looked at his co-worker, and the two shrugged. Unlikely as her story was, they'd solved the strange complaints by the neighbours. As the first policeman dialled for an ambulance, the second officer comforted Charlene.

Then, Charlene wondered what would happen if her daughter recovered and told every one of her mother's wrong-doings. So Charlene decided to take matters into her own hands…

---

Amy sat in the bathroom, with another pregnancy test. She was hoping that if she became pregnant again within the week, Matt would never notice that she'd lost the baby. She checked her watch and wondered about her husband. Was he still with Charlene? And what could her neighbour provide she couldn't?

---

Matthew was walking down the street when he saw Charlene been escorted away by an ambulance. He then decided to go visit his wife. He ran to number 11 and wrenched open the door. Matt walked in and found himself alone in the house.

"Hello? Hello?" he asked the empty house. But nobody was home.

---

Amy checked the test after the allotted time had passed. And to her delight, it was positive. She smiled and quickly discarded the test.

She was skipping towards Andrew's bedroom, when Catherine appeared. Her children were sharing the small guest bedroom in Andrew's house.

"Mommy…do you love daddy still?" she asked.

"Of course, sweetheart" Amy answered, kneeling down to her daughter's height. "Mommy and Daddy had a disagreement. So we're spending time apart" Amy continued  
"Will you ever see Daddy again?" Catherine asked.  
"We'll see," Amy said.  
"Do you promise?" Catherine said, pouting.  
"I promise" Amy said, smiling.

Yes, we all make promises. We promise to love, and cherish. We promise to care for and to protect. We promise to respect and guide each other. But promises do make the world spin. And amidst our promises, we all lie: Our personal false truths. We lie about staying with each other forever, till death do us part. But when death claims someone we love, we promise to live on. And it is in this selfish promise, even the most reasonable people become monsters…


	11. Chapter 11: Reflections

**Chapter 11: Reflections**

When the day is over, and we are tucked into bed at night, we often reflect on our days. Before we drift off, we consider our actions, and what they will bring tomorrow. Reflection is our way of deciding about our actions. Did we marry the one we loved? Did we raise our children right? Did we take the right path in life? All these questions, but most are left unanswered. But when we wake, our problems are still there, and this we cannot change…

Emily Thomas had always been proud that she had never been tied down by a relationship and children. She would boast about it to Ellie Jones. She would brag about it to Amy Bourne. Emily was proud to have everyone on the street talking about her, and her romantic conquests. She could attract all sorts of men, from vicars, to policeman, to doctors and mechanic's.

Emily was happy with her life, and proud of her conquests. But it seemed the thing she didn't need, she needed more than ever.

Emily planned Catherine's entire funeral, from the coffin to the selection of music. She made the invites, and booked the church. For the first time, there was a sense of fulfillment.

The funeral was a sordid affair. Only a handful of people came: herself, the Jones, Amy Bourne, Brad Wilkinson, and Florence Smith.

The well-wishers watched the oak coffin disappear beneath the soil, and paid their due respects, but nobody stayed there for Emily. Emily needed friends and family more than ever now, but alas she had none, and she was a lonely woman on Appleby Street.

This was until her ex-husband and son arrived.

---

It is often said, that the human body has a lot of blood. This being true, meant Florence Smith spent the few days after killing her unfaithful husband, cleaning the kitchen floor.

That faithful Friday night she'd stabbed him, she buried his body in the garden. It seemed convenient to bury him directly under the large oak tree there, as it was his favourite place in the house.

She'd had little trouble burying him. After digging a satisfactory pit, she pushed him in, filled it with soil. The next day she'd bough some new turf, and by Monday, it looked as good as new. Then, she'd set about cleaning the blood stains from the kitchen floor.

She'd done a decent job mopping it, but there would always be strange dark patches on her white tiled flooring.

She scrubbed and scrubbed, using every cleaning product she could think of, but the blood remained, and so did her fears.

It was tea-time on Tuesday, when she faced the most dangerously question yet.

She and Bobby were eating their meals in silence, as usual. All until Bobby spoke up.

"Mom…where'd Dad go?" he asked meekly.

Florence began to think. She'd learned to think quickly on the spot, and Bobby didn't seem to notice it took her a few seconds to answer.

"He's gone away," she said sharply. "Now finish your dinner."

There was a pause. "You're lying," Bobby said. He stood up and left the room.

Florence looked at her gleaming white floor, and tears welled in her eyes. There was so much blood still there and it wasn't going away…

---

As Amy Bourne looked out onto the sun set, she also looked back onto her life with her husband. She rested a hand on her stomach, as the golden rays illuminated her face. She remembered how romantic Matt had been when they were younger. But this was all in the past. Matt had left her for Charlene, and Amy was harboring the dark secret that she was pregnant with Andrew's child.

Her thoughts were disrupted when she saw Matthew walking up the driveway towards her house. Amy leapt from her window seat and ran downstairs to greet him. The door swung open and Amy gazed at Matt's rugged face, and caressed it gently. There was sympathy in his blue eyes.

"What is it, Matthew?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Amy, you and I know that we've been having some troubles…" he said, running his fingers through his tousled hair.  
"Matthew…no" Amy wept quietly.  
"Amy…I want a divorce," Matthew said. He kissed her on the cheek, then departed, leaving Mrs. Bourne alone. And single.

---

Charlene was sat on her daughter's bedside, awaiting Matt's return. He had left to break up with his wife. Charlene's face broke into a grin. She had control of Matthew, her daughter and everyone around her. It was like play-dough in her hands.

Her dark haired daughter stirred from her slumber, and Charlene turned to the situation at hand.  
"I know what you did to me," Erin said quietly.  
"So do I. But you won't tell anybody _if_ you know what's good for you." Charlene replied calmly, reorganizing the 'Get-Well' cards on Erin's bedside table. Her daughter looked slightly worried by her mother's cold approach.

"What do you plan to do to me?" she asked.

"Things you can't even imagine." Charlene said, inches away from Erin's face. The pair heard footsteps and both sat up, as Matt Bourne walked into the hospital ward. Playing the grieving mother, Charlene crossed the room, and she embraced Matt.

"I did it. I've told her I want a divorce" Matt said, as the pair sat down.  
"That's great." Charlene said happily. "But you don't need to do this,"

"Yes I do" Matthew replied, kissing her. "You and Erin are my family." He then added: "My first family." He kissed Erin on the forehead, and then Charlene.  
"And you're pregnant with my baby now. That matters." Matt continued, as Charlene rested her head against his chest.  
"Isn't Amy pregnant?" asked Erin curiously.

Matt shook his head. "I found the test. It was negative."

---

Ben Jones sat looking at the photograph of Sophie Wilkinson. She looked remarkably like Terri, but he couldn't see very much of Brad in this child. But the strangest things were that there were traits which neither parent had, yet they were present in this child. Ben looked over the photograph hundreds of times, reassuring himself with every detail, then he turned to the other photograph.

It was another woman, with blonde hair and green eyes. Her eye brows were arched, and she was smiling. He looked at the back of the photograph, where a number '5' had been hastily scribbled. Who was this woman? And what importance did she have in this mystery? Many answers were before him, but the one he wanted most was missing. He counted the bullets. Five were missing. If this was the gun that had shot Terri, which left two bullets that had mysteriously vanished.

Just like Sophie Wilkinson.

---

While her husband tried to fathom a confusing mystery in the sitting room, Ellie Jones was in the attic, looking through their old photographs. They had met Terri's sister years ago, but their faded memories could not recall her, so Ellie had turned to the dusty photographs for help.

So she searched through the dust and dirt of the cardboard boxes, stacked high in the attic, as she searched for the answer to all her questions: Who had killed Terri Wilkinson? She pulled out a new handful of photographs and scanned through them. One of them was a dark haired woman with olive skin. Ellie stared at it momentarily.

Nadine Jones gave her mother a surprise when she looked over Ellie's shoulder. "Who is that?"

Ellie jumped. "Oh…it's you dear," she said, trying desperately to calm herself down. "Well, it's your Auntie Maria," Mrs. Jones replied.  
"We don't have an Auntie Maria" Nadine said, arching an eyebrow.  
"Well…of course you don't. She died when you were little." Ellie said sweetly. Nadine nodded and left the attic.  
Ellie sighed and crunched up the photograph. Some memories were best not remembering.

---

Emily Thomas handed her ex-husband a steaming mug of coffee and the pair sat down while her son played on the mat. The awkward atmosphere began to settle in, as the toddle attempted to chew his foot.

"Dylan. It's been three years" Emily said, while her old flame sipped his hot drink.  
"Yes it has." Dylan replied curtly.  
"Jay looks Happy." Emily said.

"He is."

Emily stood up, surprising Jay. "You have no right to come marching over here and telling me that I am a bad person. I was young, and I wasn't ready to be a parent."  
"You were thirty-seven!" bellowed Dylan, who also stood up. "You left me and Jay for some fire-man!"

"Like I said. I was young and foolish." Emily answered swiftly.

"Well you're forty now-" Dylan began.

"Don't remind me." Emily shuddered.  
"You're forty, and it's time to start acting your age." Dylan ploughed on. "We're staying," he snapped, then exited the room.

Jay looked up at Emily. "Mommy!" he said, gesturing for her to pick him up. Emily picked him up, and held him close to her. His heartbeat assured her this was all real. And she began to sob. Emily cried for her lost friend, her foolish behavior, and for her life time of passion and fulfillment. She now realized she was never really fulfilled.

---

As the sun finally set on Appleby Street, two strangers arrived in Hinsdale. The couple drove a black Vauxhall Zafira down the cobbles towards the local shop. They were the new owners. The Johnson couple would soon cause waves of chaos on the Street. But for now, all was quiet, as they unpacked and went to bed.

Reflecting on our life gives us time to reconsider our choices. Before we marry, we look back on our lives, and wonder where it all went. Before we have children, we look back on our lives, and wonder about our childhood. Before we grow old, we look back on our lives and wonder about our choices. But when the light goes out, and our eyelids close, then our choice is permanent. No matter how hard we try, no matter how much we struggle, that's it. But not all struggles are in vain…


	12. Chapter 12: Curiosity killed the Cat

**Chapter 12: Curiosity killed the Cat **

There was a familiar feeling spreading once more through Appleby Street. This feeling was well-known for its unique results, and its ability to make all the residents anxious. This time was no different, when the Johnson's arrived on the street. Curiosity crept onto the street as the car drove along the cobbles. Curiosity seeped into the Houses, as the car stopped outside the local shop. Curious characters had arrived on the street, and nobody was preparing for what was to come…

The Johnson's were a private couple, who were very different both physically and mentally. Their twenty years of marriage had given them an insight into what made a marriage work, and they strongly believed in old-fashioned traditions.

Mr Sean Johnson was tall, well built, with a large, bald head, with small brown eyes. His skin was darkly tanned. He was originally from Africa, but had moved here twenty years ago to further his education. He had a strong, African accent and he pronounced every word perfectly. He wore a grey dinner-suit. He climbed out the car, and opened the door, to let out his wife.

Mrs Melissa Johnson was slim, with olive skin and white hair. She had a perfect smile, dark red lips. She had been born in England, but her parents were originally from Australia. She was fifty years old, but she didn't look it. Her husband helped her from the car, and the pair headed towards their new home.

"So this is it?" asked Melissa, who had a quiet voice, which was soothing and motherly.

Her husband looked indifferent. "Yes," he replied in his deep, African voice. "We now own this shop." he peered at the faded sign. "'Appleby Store'. Hm, how fitting." he commented.

"This better be worth the money it cost" Mrs Johnson replied coldly, and the couple stepped into their new home.

---

Emily sat in the kitchen, alone. She'd always felt alone since her best friend's death. But as she cradled Jay in her arms, she felt the world wasn't so lonely after all. Her maternal instincts were stronger than ever. She kissed Jay on the forehead.

Usually, she would wake up next to a handsome man she'd met the other night, and she would go to the kitchen to make herself a strong drink to forget last night.

However, this morning, she had woken up next to Dylan. It wasn't birds who woke her, but a hungry baby Jay. She had taken him downstairs, fed him, and rocked him to sleep. Emily felt more of a mother than she had ever felt. Pride filled her, her first accomplishment worthy of notice.

The kitchen door swung open and Dylan entered the kitchen. "Emily?" he wondered aloud, confused.

"Yes?" she replied.  
"About last night…" Dylan trailed off.

"I know. I want to make this marriage work, too." Emily said soothingly.

"That's…great!" Dylan said, grinning.  
"Yes…yes it is." Emily replied.

---

Matt woke up. He didn't know what had caused an abrupt end to his dreams, when he remembered where he was.

Matt was in Charlene's bedroom. He hadn't realised this until now. And with the light on, he was shocked at what he saw.

Pictures of his wife were everywhere. Photos of Amy Bourne covered the walls. Why did Charlene have all these images? Surely his haunting dreams of his ex-wife were enough, that he didn't need reminding of her during his waking hours.

"Morning, Matthew" Charlene said, and he noticed she was wearing a familiar blue dress, with flowers sewn around the hem.

"I hope you slept well," she continued, putting a tray of cereal, toast and eggs before Matt.

"What are…all these pictures?" he asked, but Charlene merely shook her head and handed him a drink. "Here, drink this." she said, and he did.

His eyesight instantly began to blur.  
"What's…going on?" he said, his words slurring. She'd drugged his drink! He reached out to get her, when he fell back to sleep, a prisoner in his own mind.

---

Florence Smith woke up alone, as usual. Her husband's death may have shaken her, but she still had control.

But this morning was different. She couldn't remember last night. Her sheets were stained with blood. And scratched into the door were two words.  
"_I know._"

Florence gasped. What did this mean? She climbed out of bed and saw a picture of Sam beneath the writing.

If this had been a week ago, Florence would have broken down sobbing. But her newfound confidence gave her strength to solider on.

She pulled the sheets from her bed, and ran to the bathroom. She disposed of the sheets in the washing basket and set about washing her hands and face from blood. She watched the water turn red as it poured down the drain.

Regaining her composure, Florence picked up the washing basket and ran downstairs. She opened the kitchen door and screamed.

Lay in the middle of the floor, was her deceased husband.

---

Amy Bourne sat in her bedroom. Her ring was still on her finger. Matt couldn't leave her. Amy wouldn't let him leave her. Matthew was her husband. And nobody could change that. However, Amy was free of the ties of marriage. She was single. She could have any man she wanted. But she craved the married life much more than this single hell.

She looked out the window, hoping Matthew would walk up it, with flowers in one hand and chocolates in the other. She hoped he would beg for forgiveness and the two would kiss and have a lavish wedding.

But she reminded herself, dreams belonged to her alone. She was free. And one man had certainly caught her eye. She discarded her ring, and decided to visit a neighbor. Andrew Dale.

---

Andrew Dale was sat in his kitchen, with his brother Alex.  
"What are you doing here?" Andrew snapped.  
"Bit late for this, big brother. I've been here three days and I've made more progress than you have in a week." Alex replied coolly, lightning up a cigarette. Alex wasn't a smoker; he just occasionally did so to make himself seem cooler.

"Put that out." Andrew growled, and Alex obliged. "I was working hard on this case and I don't need interferences."

"You haven't got any further." Alex said.

"Everyone is still a suspect." Andrew yelled.  
"Not they're not. There's still a young lady that could help our investigation." said Alex.

Andrew froze. "Who?" he asked, slowly.

"Sophie Wilkinson." Alex grinned.  
"She's dead." Andrew snorted.

"No, she's very much alive." Alex said, standing up. "Good day, brother." he hissed, before leaving the room.

Andrew looked at the photograph of Sophie Wilkinson. She was only nine in this picture. She'd died so young.

He sighed. What did Alex mean? How could she be alive? There'd been a fire.  
But…they'd never found a body.

---

There was a familiar knock at the door that Afternoon. One which would shock the Jones family forever.

A loud, powerful knock caused Ben and Ellie to exchange glances. "I'll answer it," Ellie said, getting to her feet and leaving the living room. Ben followed.  
"Honey, wait" Ben insisted.  
"Why? It's probably the Postman." Ellie said calmly.  
"You know as well as I do that that knock belongs to Maria."

"Maria's dead" Ellie said, her face suddenly becoming blank.  
Ben grimaced. "I guess."

Ellie's face returned to normal as she strode to the door and opened in.

In the doorway stood a woman with olive skin and dark hair.

"Hello, Ellie."

"Maria?"

Who said the past doesn't come back to haunt us?

---

The Johnson family seemed to be settling in well, as they swiftly moved their furniture into the second floor of 'Appleby Store'.

Mrs. Johnson poured her husband a refreshing cup of tea as he struggled upstairs with a mirror. The mirror had been expensive, but it was priceless. She had bought it from a shop. There was a shifty looking man, who called himself Brad, who was selling furniture. He said this was because his wife had died, but Melissa was doubtful.

The mirror had caught her eye instantly. Sun bounced off the mirror, and as she looked into it, she could see something no one else could. The mirror seemed to see into her soul. And when Brad's reflection caught the mirror, it showed his inner-soul too. It was a cold, dark solid shape, with harsh features.

Her memories ended abruptly when the door opened and Sean dragged the mirror into the room.

"There, we're unpacked." he said, with a heavy sigh.

Melissa smiled as she passed him a steaming mug of tea.  
"The stock will arrive tomorrow." she said calmly. "This street seems pleasant."

"Many streets do." Sean replied cynically.

"Indeed." Melissa commented, as she looked into the mirror. Brad's face seemed to loom out of it. And Melissa knew he wasn't far away.

---

As Melissa remembered their meeting, Brad Wilkinson was trying desperately to forget it. He had pawned off anything that reminded him off his wife. The living was stripped bare of her furnishings.

He stood with a grin, as he looked at a photo.  
His daughter Mary stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching her father.

As the flames danced before Brad's eyes, he remembered the fire; the fire which had taken his little girl away from him. Sophie's body had never been recovered and he had always clung to the possibility she'd survived.

But all hope was gone now that Terri was on the edge of leaving. So he dropped the photo into the flames, and watched it disappear into ash. He was alone.

Yes, curiosity has us gripped and waiting for another surprise. Although, curiosity can also be dangerous. There will be a moment when curiosity clutches our lungs and squeezes all the air out of them. There will be a second when curiosity stops our heart in its track. There will be a minute when curiosity silences us in the face of the unknown. Curiosity can be helpful and it can be dangerous. Always remember though, Curiosity killed the Cat.


	13. Chapter 13: Till Death Do Us Part

**Chapter 13:** Till Death Do Us Part

As humans, we are the most unique creatures on the planet. In our wedding vows, we forsake all others and promise to stay with each other forever. 'Till Death Do Us Part'. Lobsters mate for life, but as humans, we do not keep this vow. It is rarely death that is the cause of separation. Affairs, secret spouses or even addictions pressure us into divorce. Appleby Street was full of unhappy marriages, but nobody dared to break that sacred vow, in a vain hope to keep their marriage alive...

Florence's marriage was one of those rare occasions when death was the cause of separation. However, in her unique case, it was her who had killed her husband.

Florence stood in the kitchen, horrified. Her recently deceased husband, who had been buried under the oak tree in the garden, now lay in her kitchen covered in soil and dried blood. At first, she couldn't believe her eyes. Then, she remembered the bloody sheets and the words on her door.

"_I know._" said a voice, almost reading her mind. Bobby was stood behind his mum. Florence quickly snapped out of it, and went into survival mode.

"Honey, go phone 999. Your father has been murdered. I'll get him some clothes." she said, but stopped after seeing Bobby's young face so contorted with rage.

"You won't do anything if you know what's good for you." her son said. "I know you killed him." Florence stopped dead. What did he mean? Was this simply a dream?

"You killed my father" Bobby spat, fuming. He smacked her across the face, leaving a large red handprint imprinted on her face.

Florence was instantly reminded of Sam's violent behavior. "How dare you hit me!" she said, struggling to her feet.  
"If I was you, I'd do exactly as I was told, or I might accidentally..." he produced the phone from behind his back. "...tell someone."

Florence paused. What else could she do?  
"Good girl. Now, you're going to do just as I say..."

---

There was a gentle jingle as a customer entered the shop.  
"Hello," Mrs. Johnson said her voice as melodic as the wind chime hung above the door.

"Hi, do you have any cornflakes?" asked the blonde-haired woman.  
"Any particular brand, Mrs.?"  
"Bourne. And how did you know I'm married?" Amy demanded.  
"Your wedding ring, dear." Mrs. Johnson said. "Any particular brand?" she repeated.  
"Just ordinary, please." Amy Bourne replied, some-how alarmed by this woman. She seemed so mystical and bizarre.

Mrs. Johnson fetched a box from the top shelf. "That'll be 90 pence, please." Melissa replied.  
Amy handed the woman a pound coin.

"10 pence change. Thank you." Mrs. Johnson said.  
"What's your name?" asked a quizzical Amy.  
"Melissa. Melissa Johnson."

Amy frowned, trying to place that name. "Goodbye." Melissa bade her, as she left the shop with a gentle tinkle of the wind chime.

"That one's dangerous." said Sean, emerging from the back of the store.

"Indeed." Melissa replied, sighing deeply. "How troubled she is. And yet, so young."

---

Ellie sat in the Living Room, opposite her Aunt. "You appear in good health."

"I am." Maria replied shortly.  
"I hope your travel was comfortable." Ellie mumbled.  
"It was." Maria replied.  
"Do you...?" Ellie wondered where to begin. Up until today, she'd believed the woman to be dead. It was very scary. Ben returned with two steaming mugs of tea, one for his wife, and one for Maria.

"Here you go," he said, politely.

"Let's cut the chit-chat." Maria said briskly, sipping her tea then putting it down. "You two are feeling guilty, are you not?"  
"What do you mean?" Ben wondered, looking coldly at the woman.  
"Let's see. To start, you tried to kill me."

"You're still breathing, aren't you?" Ellie sniped.

"After your attack, it's a wonder." Maria replied. Ben looked amused. This woman was an older version of his wife, no doubt.  
"I'd hardly call it an attack." Ellie said, looking cool and in control. However, her hand holding her tea was shaking so much, that she had to put the cup down.

"You tried to bludgeon me with a candlestick." Maria snapped.  
"You were threatening our family." Ben said, standing up for his wife.

"I knew something that no one else did, and that was reason for attempted murder?" Maria said, looking furious.  
"You were talking lies!" Ellie said, standing up.  
"No I wasn't! Because Charlie is not your son!" Maria screamed smashing her fist against the table.

"What are you on about?" Ben asked, as Ellie sank into the sofa, shivering.

"Ellie has a little dirty secret, which nobody else knows." Maria said, smiling evilly. "Charlie isn't your son, Ben. Didn't you notice that she didn't want you with her when she gave birth?"

Ben hesitated. She was right.  
"Ellie's sister, Tanya, died in childbirth. Giving birth to her son." Maria continued, her pupils becoming tiny. "The baby that Ellie stole."  
"Get out!" Ellie screamed.  
Maria obliged, putting her tea down and pulling on her jacket, slowly. "Get out of my house!" Ellie shrieked, and Maria left, quickly. Ellie sank against the wall, sobbing gently.

---

Emily sat in her conservatory, rocking back and forth on a chair that had belonged to her grandmother. Her conservatory had been used very little for lounging in the sun. Piled high and covered in vast amounts of dust, it was more of a storage room than anything else.

In one corner, she'd rescued all of little Jay's baby stuff. Cribs, playthings, and much more. She'd even found his favourite blanket, which her blonde-haired son had quickly wrapped himself up in.

Rocking back and forth, this was a perfect chance to relax, and reflect. She'd never had a proper marriage. How could she play the doting wife and mother, if she had been used to being doted upon?

Dylan walked into the room, and Emily signaled to him that Jay was asleep. Nodding, Dylan took Jay from her arms, and put him in the crib.

"He's a bit big for that" Emily said, quietly.

"Yeah..." Dylan replied. "I guess he is."  
"Dylan...I'm sorry I left you." Emily said, bowing her head. She could feel real tears stinging her face.

"It's O.K." Dylan said, soothingly.

"I'm a horrible mother" Emily sobbed quietly.

"No you're not. We're going to start over. And this time, you'll be great."

---

Matthew and Amy looked around the dusty room that was called an office. They were here to see a divorce lawyer, along with Charlene and Andrew.

Mr. Trevor Edwards had been a divorce lawyer for fourteen years. He had a prominent grey moustache, with small, beady, blue eyes and very little hair. He wore a dusty brown suit, which made him look a lot older but he was only in his fifty's. He'd granted many strange divorces, but he would about to learn that his job wasn't so easy.

"Matthew Bourne, Amy Hunt, you are here to request a divorce, on what grounds?"

"He's seeing some floozy!" Amy said, glaring at Charlene.  
"What a load of tripe. He left you because you're a pathetic woman with no ambition." The other woman sniped.

"I can tell this is going to take some time." He mumbled. "Barbara, cancel all my other appointments today."

"Yes Sir" Came the crackly response of his assistant over the intercom.

---

Brad sat in the moth-eaten armchair, hidden in the darkness of the study. The study was a small, square room, plastered with photos, which held a computer, a bookcase and a desk in the corner. Brad looked through the photo album, which he held tightly, wondering what had happened to his little girl. Then, he remembered the fire…

_Kissing her on the forehead, Brad bade his little girl Sophie goodnight, before retiring to bed with his wife Terri. However, in Addams Close, nobody ever used his or her real name. It was a street known for vandalism and thieves. Brad had promised his wife that, one day, they would live on Appleby Street. Appleby Street was the ideal street. "One day…" he told her, as the two drifted off to sleep._

_The smell of filthy smoke woke Brad that night. Raising a hand to his sweaty brow, he tried to wake himself up. When he saw the grey smoke seeping under the door, he leapt from under the sheets. Terri stirred. "What's wrong Brad?" she mumbled.  
"The House is on fire!" he said, and Terri sat up. _

"_Get a jacket, and some clothes. I'm going to get the children," said Brad, pulling a white shirt and a pair of jogging bottoms on, before leaving the room._

The whole of the bottom floor was ablaze. Brad saw the blackened walls, and knew there would be no way down. They would have to jump. The House shook. Brad swore. The supports for the first floor were weakening. Gathering his thoughts, Brad rammed open his son's door. "Stewart! Get up!" he coughed, the smoke now entering his lungs. "Put on a jacket and come on!" he said, shaking his drowsy son. 

_Leaving the room quickly, he felt the house give another lurch. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Terri guiding Stewart to their bedroom, where a large window, leading out onto the Kitchen roof, would be their escape route._

_Brad pushed the door open into his daughter's room. Already there was a ghostly woman, covered by smoke. "Take Mary, I'm getting Sophie ready!" she told then. Brad nodded as his youngest daughter coughed loudly. His little girl had green eyes, and blonde hair. It was the last Brad ever saw of her._

_He took his daughter onto the landing, when the floorboards began to snap. Looking down, he saw a large hole through which the flames were rising from, their ghostly shadows licking at Brad. He took a breath, picking up his oldest daughter, Mary. He exhaled, and then flung himself across the gap, landing uncertainly on the other side. Gaining his balance, he ran into his bedroom, where Terri and Stewart had already escaped through the large window._

_  
"Pass her to me," Terri said, and Brad lowered Mary down to his wife.  
"Where's Sophie?" asked Stewart. Brad swore again, turning around to go back and fetch her. As his eyes watered from the smoke filled room, he saw the landing was ablaze. The smell of burning entered his nose, and heard a loud crunch. The whole first floor was collapsing. He would never see his daughter again._

_  
"Sophie!" he yelled, coughing. There was no reply. "Sophie!" he yelled again.  
"Jump daddy!" cried Mary, and Brad heard another crunch. The floor beneath him was crumbling. He lowered himself out the window, landing on the kitchen roof. Then, the family climbed down into their garden, watching their home slowly burn down. The sirens wailed loudly in the distant but for Brad, it was too late. He had lost his little girl. _

Brad shook himself, returning to the present. Nobody knew the exact reason, but within moments, the Wilkinson's house was ablaze. Police suspected vandals, but with no evidence, it remained a mystery. Brad hated himself for abandoning his daughter. Now, he would lose his wife, just as Sophie had vanished.

However, if Brad had listened a second longer before leaving, he would have heard a small cry. A cry could have prevented years of worry and heart break: A little girl calling for her father.

'_Daddy!'_

---

Terri lay in bed. She was weak, and crippled. This battle of life and death was weakening her. Nobody knew the murderer.

What could she do? In her position, there was very little.

Brad had not visited, and Terri suspected there were greater callings for husband. Her children were safe, she could tell, but as for Sophie's well being, Terri was unsure.

It had been years since the fire, but nobody knew the fate of her little girl.

---

Several men in dark outfits climbed through a broken window into the Bourne residence. These men were 'friends' of Matt, and had only one requirement: the cocaine they'd sold to him.

Treading carefully, they searched the house, looking for the small bag. They'd found it tucked in his sock drawer, with a photo of his family. The lead man, a tall dark skinned man, with a black outfit on, pocketed the bag, and then tore apart the photo. Matt had better be careful what he did from now on.

These men were onto him.

Marriages were meant to last forever. As the human life flickers and eventually fades, so does a marriage. No one will ever truly understand a happy marriage. There can never be a perfect relationship. Humans will never attain enough purity. People may get close, but never shall there be perfection. There will forever be a light at the end of the tunnel, but who will protect the weak when the lights go out?


	14. Chapter 14: Not Quite Here

**Chapter 14: Not Quite Here**

There are moments in our life when we do not want to be ourselves. Whether it is in a test at school, or at a distant cousin's wedding, we all wish for to be somewhere else. When death greets us, we want life. But as life takes its toll on us, we long for death. We are always wondering how it would be like to be in other people's shoes. We are not quite here in this world. But when we die, we see more clearly. And that is when we know the truth. Restless in life… peaceful in death.

Ben Jones sat in his living room, looking at a family photo. His pride never left him, even as he dreamt. He'd thought his family was the perfect neighbors. They were polite, and bore gifts. However, newfound revelations made him question his judgment.

Charlie was not his son, and the woman who had 'died' several years ago was alive. He remembered that fateful night…

_The doorbell rang._

_The night was gloomy, rain lashing against the window panes. Ben and Ellie were young; both caught up in the romance. Ellie clutched her newborn child, having returned from the hospital only three days ago._

_Ben and his wife exchanged a glance, then looked at the small, golden clock sat on the mantelpiece. It was ten o' clock at night, far too late for visitors._

_Ben stood with a weary sigh, as Ellie shushed her sleeping babe. Ben walked down the long corridor. The hallway was dark, and eerie shadows cast themselves against the beige walls. _

_Ben undid the latch and opened the door. _

_In a rain-soaked coat, Aunt Maria stood there. Her eyes cold and her face pale, she looked like Death itself._

_  
"Let me in, Ben." She said softly, almost threatening. Ben stepped to the side and she entered. She removed her coat and discarding her yellow umbrella. She stormed down the corridor to the Sitting room at the end._

_Ben followed her, and walked into the Living Room, closing the door behind him._

"Give him to me." Maria said gently to her niece.

_Ellie looked up at her aunt. "What are you on about?"_

"_Give me Tania's son." She commanded. Suddenly, there was a cry from Charlie, who'd woken._

"_Leave him alone!" screamed Ellie, and she threw herself at Maria. The pair struggled, Ellie forcing Maria backwards. With a sudden grunt, Maria launched Ellie off herself. _

_Ben watched his wife drop, arms flailing as she fell backwards over the sofa._

_  
"Ellie!" Ben cried, and turned to see Maria leaned over the crib. Throwing himself at her, Maria was knocked off her feet, and the air in her lungs was instantly exhaled._

"_Leave me alone, boy!" screamed Maria, her eyes bulging. The older woman grabbed an ornamental knife from the mantelpiece, and threw Ben against the window._

_The window panes shivered, as delicate rain drops hit them._

"_You should not have taken that baby." She said; ready to pierce his beating heart._

_There was a scream, and a dull gold object hit Maria on the head. Ben saw his wife, Ellie, with a nasty wound on her head, clutching a candlestick._

_Maria lay dead. Or so Ben thought._

"_What did I do?" Ellie asked._

The doorbell rang. Ben looked up. It was ten o' clock.

He went to the door.

"Hello again, Ben." Maria said. "I need to talk."

Without a moment's hesitation, Ben let the woman, who tried to ruin his life, into his house.

---

Nadine and Tom stood behind the wooden shed in the corner of their school playground. The sound of laughter and screaming dominated most of the playground as break time allowed them to escape from their lessons for fifteen minutes.

But the pair had reasons for hiding from their friends. Wrapped in an embrace, Ellie's daughter tilted her head upwards, while Amy's son tilted his downwards. Their lips met and they kissed.

There was a loud scream, and they separated.

"I don't think we can keep this secret anymore." Nadine said.

Tom nodded. "And screw our parents. We know what we want."

The bell rang, and the pair reluctantly broke their embrace and headed for class.

---

Florence lay in her martial bed, longing for her husband. Since his death, she'd been lonely. She thought she could be content. But in this darkened room, she'd never been more alone.

Her son brought her food. She hadn't seen daylight for several days now, and the claustrophobia was settling in.

The door creaked. She pulled the blanket up to her nose, peering into the gloom.

"It's dinner, Mum." Said her teenage son. Bobby looked at his mother. Her hair was mousy brown and there was a terrified look in her eyes.

He put down the meal of cold chicken and peas. Florence shifted forward and picked up the piece of chicken, looking cautiously at it.

"It's not poisoned." Bobby said, but at the mention of the word 'poison', Florence's eyes grew and she whimpered.

"No one will know your dirty little secret." Bobby said, and he left the room, slamming the door.

---

Amy sat in her nightgown as the letterbox went. The clang of metal awoke her from her daze. Getting to her feet, she walked to the front door and picked up the letter.

She opened the letter hastily, dropping the envelope to the floor. She read it and re-read it. She was due at a hearing to decide custody over her house, her children and her life.

She patted her stomach gently, thinking of Andrew's child. Suddenly, there was a knock.

Opening the door, Amy saw Andrew stood before her. He leaned forward and kissed her.

"No need to knock at your own door." Amy said.

"Ah, but I bring groceries." Andrew said, kissing her on the nose, then returning to retrieve them from his car.

Amy sighed. She'd never appreciated his gentle welsh tone until now. He was so perfect. Matt was in debt, and into drugs, and she had suffered because of him.

Now she had a chance of happiness.

And Matt wasn't going to ruin it.

---

The alleyway was dark and suspicious. Litter covered the floor and bird droppings covered the walls. Graffiti was everywhere, and there was an overpowering stench of urine.

Matt wondered why he was here, in the middle of Addams Close. Then he saw her.

Her hair was dirty blonde, and her eyes were a misty green. Her outfit was a plain white t-shirt and a short violet skirt. Her shoes were black and made of leather, reaching her knees. Her face was plastered with make-up.

"Hello love," she said, every word sounding as if it were from a drunkard.

"Susan…" Matt rushed forward.

"Hold up. Where's my money?" she asked.

Matt's hands shook as he opened his wallet and retrieved the stolen money from his ex-wife.

"Good, good. But this isn't enough." Susan said, counting it carefully. "You know my brother will kill you if you don't repay it in a week. You're already a month overdue. "

Matt opened his mouth but Susan shook her head. "You can't sleep with me again. That'll only make him mad."

Matt remembered back to the night he'd done that. And he'd woke with a bottle of wine in one hand and stunk of cigarettes. He'd struggled to pay his debts and had slept with Susan to try and even it out. But it hadn't worked and now he was even more in debt.

"Here's your stash. But don't let my brother know. I had to steal it from him."

Matt took the small bag, eyes hungry for its calming addiction. He pocketed it, and turned around.

"One more thing, Matt." Susan said. Matt turned around. "Sorry about your wife." She called, and vanished back into the darkness of the alleyway.

---

The Johnson's sat at the oak table which had been handcrafted over twelve years ago for Mrs. Melissa Johnson's sister.

They ate their meal of lamb and vegetables, neither speaking about their hectic day in the store.

"It was busy today, wasn't it Melissa?" asked Sean, as he put down his cutlery.

"Not much busier than most days" Melissa admitted, also finishing her meal.

"Our neighbors are very strange indeed." Her husband told her, while he collected the dishes.

"We must be much more of a mystery to them." Melissa told him, as she got out her chair and headed to the candle which lit the room.

"We own the corner shop, what's mysterious about that?" asked Sean from the kitchen.

"You know what I mean, Sean." Melissa said, and with that, she extinguished the candle.

---

Charlene put a hand on her stomach.

"Are you alright?" her daughter asked, looking up from her homework.

"I'm fine." Charlene said, resting a hand upon her aching temple. "Just a migraine."

Then, Charlene felt the world spinning. "Got to…phone…Matt" she said, leaving her daughters room and heading towards the stairs.

Her legs felt like lead, and her head felt like stone. She stumbled forward, towards the stairs.

"Matt…" she cried, before slipping, and she fell down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom.

Erin ran out her room. "Mum!" she cried.

---

Katy McHale sat at her desk, tapping keys on her keyboard. Her alert sea-green eyes followed every movement, while her fingers tapped.

Katy was thirty seven, single and had no children. Her hair was a gentle golden-brown and she'd been working at the police station for fifteen years. She was a well-respected member of the force.

But this case she was faced with baffled her unlike any murder she'd seen. Terri Wilkinson had been shot on her doorstep in broad daylight, and no one had seen anything.

With a click of her mouse, Katy found out something that would shake up her boring search.

The DNA samples were back.

"Sir, I think you'd better see this." She said, and her boss walked over, a burly man with wide shoulders and little hair.

"I've worked out the killer's gender, by a test done on the doorstep containing a hair fragment." She said. "But there must be something wrong with the system."

"What is it, McHale?" asked her boss.

"The hair fragment says female. But the shoes she was wearing…belonged to a man."

Her boss looked confused. "There must be some error. The shoes were size seven, belonged to a man named Mr. Harrison. A newspaper reporter. Who was found dead last week."

Her boss sighed deeply. "I'll let you get back to it McHale. Maybe you'll crack it."

Katy nodded, and pressed a button. Another photo appeared. Andrew Dale.

---

Ben nodded. "I understand."

Maria smiled. Ben recognized that smile. Ellie smiled exactly the same. "I hope you know what Ellie did."

The aunt never heard the door open, or saw Ellie stood behind her.

"Let me show you to the door." Ben said, and Maria turned, to find herself face-to-face with her niece.

"Ellie!" she gasped.

There was a slicing of metal.

Maria crumpled. Ben held the small knife in his hand, blood dripping from it. "Never hold a knife to my neck, or threaten my family _ever_ again." He warned.

Ellie smiled, as Maria drifted into unconsciousness. "Call an ambulance. I'll take her outside and say I saw someone stab her." Ben said.

His wife obliged, and he heaved Maria over his shoulder and dragged her towards their front door, leaving blood stains on the carpet. Ellie sighed. More cleaning to do.

There will be a time when we want security against the unknown, and look from help from friends or family. But in death we see clearly. Our judgment was poor and our lives were full of regret. But if you disregard humanity, then you can survive in the place we call home. Until we are greeted by death, whenever it comes, we will be ready.


	15. Chapter 15: Childhood Memories

**Chapter 15: Childhood Memories**

As we grow older, we grow wiser, but children are the key to the knowledge. You never realize how much you enjoyed childhood till it's over. We desperately want to grow up. Then it all crumbles down, and we are children once more. Life continues, children ever striving forward, leaving their childhood behind, until it's nothing but memories, and time has ran out.

In the case of Andrew Dale, he had never had a childhood. At the tender age of ten, both his parents were killed in a car crash, prompting him to raise his younger brother, Alex, under the doubtful eye of his uncle. Their uncle had insulted and beaten Andrew.

This way, Andrew had never learned weakness and he had never learned to quit. He'd raised Alex to show some emotion, but disregarded it himself. There had never been time for fun and games. Andrew felt robbed of his childhood.

Lay beside him was his pregnant girlfriend. Amy lay slumbering, blissfully unaware of her partner's worry. Andrew sighed heavily as he dragged himself out of bed. He crossed the darkened room, and opened the curtains, letting rays of golden sunshine into the room, illuminating everything with a shimmering dusty light.

Andrew sat down on the cushioned windowsill, opening wide the two windows. His eyes looked out onto the quiet roads of Appleby Street. The birds chirped merrily, and the sweet-perfumed smell of dew entered his nostrils through the open windows. He breathed deeply.

A small tear formed in his eyes, and trickled down his left cheek, before evaporating in the warm sunlight. He heard Amy stir. Remembering time was behind him. He would not let his baby become like him. His baby would have a childhood. Even if it killed him.

---

Alex lit up a cigarette.

He was exhausted, as he hadn't slept for several nights now. As he researched deeper into the case of Terri's attempted murder, he became more and more troubled. His mind plagued him, with visions of his past. A memory he didn't want to remember.

_The air was thick with smoke and ash. Alex climbed up the metal stairs, feeling the searing heat against the soles of his boots._

_He reached the top of the flight of stairs. "Where are you?" he cried into the dirty air, coughing as he inhaled the smoke. Claustrophobia was setting in. _

_There was a scream from a little girl. Alex rushed forward. Another scream, as timber fell around him, ablaze. "Hold on!" Alex cried, kicking down the door. This room was filled with smoke, and flames licked at his fingertips. The warmth was incredible. Alex felt his skin baking, sweat dripping off his forehead._

_The screams continued. He ran forward, struggling over debris which lay abandoned at his feet._

_Tearing open the wardrobe door, an unconscious girl, only four years old, fell forwards, unconscious. Alex lifted her limp body and ran for the staircase, making it out the burning building as it crumbled._

_He watched as the little girl was carted away by the ambulance, and heard the words which scarred him forever, from one of the other firemen._

_  
"There was a man. Top floor. Never made it out." _

Alex exhaled the smoke from his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it with his shoe. He was no closer to finding Terri's killer than he was to getting some decent sleep. And sleep was so far away.

Terri lay immobilized, silent and sleeping. Katy McHale sat beside her, her mousy hair framing her pale face.

Katy had sat here all night, but Terri had not moved or stirred. There was a bandage wrapped around her torso where the bullet had hit, and wires from various medical machines implanted in her skin. The quiet hum of the heart-monitor was the only sound, par Terri's and Katy's breathing.

Katy looked on Terri with awe. She was clearly a beautiful woman. The hospital may have left her long golden locks to become curly and grew split-ends, and removed all her make-up, but Katy was impressed still. She resembled Sleeping Beauty.

"Mrs. Wilkinson…" Katy mumbled for the tenth time in an hour. She sighed; still, no response.

The world was quiet. Then Terri woke.

---

Brad wiped the sweat from his brow, and sipped deeply from his water bottle.

"Kids!" he bellowed into the silent house, and slowly, Mary and Stewart climbed out of bed and appeared at the patio doors.

"What is it, Daddy?" asked Stewart, yawning loudly.

"Take a look for yourself." Brad replied, and stepped to the side.

The children rubbed their weary eyes, and gasped in amazement at what they saw. Before them, was a large marble block, about 10 by 10 meters. A single door led down some stone steps into a dark room. It was beautiful, but mysterious.

"What is it?" asked Mary, blinking rapidly, as if to prove what she was seeing was real.

Brad beckoned them silently, and clad only in cotton pajamas, the children tread carefully across their cold garden, barefooted.

Brad led them down the icy stone steps into the pitch black room. The door swung shut behind them, causing Mary to squeal in terror. Brad silenced her, and pulled an almost invisible white cord.

The room was suddenly lit, a searing light which hurt the children's eyes. After adjusting to the bright, single light bulb hung

Brad heard a horrified gasp from his children. It was expected. They wouldn't understand.

The room had three shelves on each wall, except the south-facing wall, where the door was. Each shelf held ten, framed photographs of the Wilkinson family, individual members and group-shots. The walls were marble, but there was unnerving shadows lurking on the muddy floor.

Stewart and Mary clutched each others hand, when they saw what was at the far end of the room. Four, separate coffins, two large and two small. All were oak, with a beautiful furnish, but carved into their lids, were the names of each Wilkinson member; Terri, Brad, Mary and Stewart.

"Welcome to the Wilkinson Shrine." Brad said. "This is where you'll die."

---

Emily was in kitchen, frantically washing dishes.

She was now a full-time mother, and Jay had just dropped off to sleep, leaving her to fulfill her household chores before Dylan came home.

She dried her hands on a towel, and then left the kitchen. She had not been with anyone since Dylan had returned, and as comforting as it was, she felt unfulfilled. Dylan was too busy to pay her attention.

She decided that she was going to marry him. She had started writing plans and organizing for the wedding. After she finished her chores, she would retrieve the book from under the sofa, and start work on it.

She retrieved the sapphire book. There were beautiful, elegant golden swirls across the front cover, and she opened it, seeing the flowers she had pressed, on the first page. She sighed deeply, and found where she had been before she had been interrupted yesterday.

She began to write down venues, lost in thought.

Half an hour passed and there was still no sign of Dylan. Anxious, Emily got up, and slid her book back under the sofa, and peered out the blinds. His car's absence from the drive worried her.

Suddenly, there was a loud revving sound, and Dylan pulled up in his red Mini. He got out, talking on his mobile phone.

The door opened, and Dylan entered, to see a doting Emily stood before him.

He silenced her. "Yeah, I'll need those reports in on Tuesday." He said into the receiver, before hanging up. "Emily, I'm exhausted, could you make me some t-"

"There's a cup on the Sitting Room table." Emily said, but Dylan failed to notice her icy tone.

On his shirt, was red lipstick. And it wasn't hers.

---

Charlene woke to an agonizing pain in her stomach.

She had been in hospital for nearly a week, after her trip down the stairs, and had only just regained consciousness.

"Where am I?" she asked, groggily.

Her daughter filled an empty paper cup with water, from the jug beside Charlene. "You had a fall. You're in hospital."

Charlene drank deeply from the cup. "Where's Matt?" she asked.

"He had to go. Doctors say the baby's fine, but you were in shock." Erin said, pouring her mother another drink. "Something about hyperventilating."

Charlene tried to remember the fall. Her memories were like water in cupped hands, the details trickling through her fingers as she tried desperately to hold onto them.

Her last thought had been Amy. She'd seen her next-door-neighbor only a week ago, and despite what Matt said, Amy was three months pregnant.

She remembered the rage, which had flown through her body. What if it was Matt's child? Would he leave her for his wife?

Charlene clenched her fist, crushing the empty polystyrene cup. He wouldn't leave her, or he would pay the ultimate price.

---

Ben and Ellie sat in the room which smelled heavily of cleaning products. They were waiting anxiously for news of Maria's condition. It was they who had put the woman in hospital, but had left no trace of murder.

Ellie had scrubbed the carpets, while Ben had disposed of the knife. Not a single clue remained in their spotless house, and still, paranoia and worry filled their sleepless minds.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jones?"

The two took their feet, swaying nervously. "Yes?" Ben answered.

A man, with wavy blonde hair, a perfect smile encrusted onto his tanned face who was wearing a long white coat, stood before them.

"I'm afraid Mrs. Stone has gone into a coma." He told them gently.

Ellie gasped, while Ben bit his lip nervously. "That's awful." Ellie said.

"Unfortunately, we can find no reason, other than the stab wound, which would send her into shock." The doctor continued, fidgeting with the stethoscope around his neck. "Can you think of any reason which could have sent her into trauma?"

The pair shuffled uncomfortably. The doctor had seen it before. Families never liked these awkward questions about their home life.

However, the circumstances would have to be extreme for something to thrust a kitchen knife threw her back and fractured her spine. She would be paralysed…if she woke, of course.

"No." Ellie said, and the doctor nodded, with a caring smile on his face. He had seen many injuries on Appleby Street, many fatal. The ideal street? He scoffed at the thought. The policy on that street was 'kill or be killed'. And Maria had danced with death.

---

As the sun began to set on Appleby Street, only a solitary figure remained on the overgrown lawn that belonged to Mr. Dale. The scorching heat burned his neck as he tried to tame the untamable garden.

"Tom?"

The fair haired lad looked up. Nadine was stood in front of him, still wearing her green school sweater, with a white shirt underneath, and a red tie. She was wearing a grey skirt, and black tights, as well as her black boots.

"What's up?" Tom asked, wiping the sweat from his brow as he took a breaking from mowing the lawn.

"My parents are getting suspicious that I'm spending so much time with you." Nadine twirled a strand of her dark brown hair around a finger nervously.

"Then we'll tell them." Tom concluded. "We're together and they can't do anything."

"My mum would kill me-" Nadine began.

"I'll tell her. She'll have to kill us both." Tom said, with a cheeky wink, and Nadine felt her cheeks flush.

In life, people should be more careful what they say. Some take things too literally.

---

Amy rapped on the door.

The wooden panels before her, painted with a peeling brown seemed to quiver before her. She was in Pearview Avenue, where she had grew up and married Matt.

There was silence for a few moments, before the door was wrenched open by Simon.

Simon was a psychic. He was nearly sixty, with neatly trimmed grey hair, cut to perfection. His eyes were grey, and weary. He wore a simple blue sweater, and black trousers. Amy had grown up next door to him. She had never doubted his guidance before, even when she was scared of his predictions.

It had been fourteen years since she had last visited, but she remained in hope he would help her. Andrew was wonderful, and loved her children, but he wasn't their father.

"Amy Hunt? I've been expecting you." Simon said with a wrinkled smile, as he let her in, and guided her to the usual room.

It was a dark room, two large windows covered by purple curtains. On the ceiling was a huge star chart, the white 'stars' were actually concealed lights. There was a table in the centre, small and wooden. It was covered by overly large table cloth, blue with stars on.

Simon led her to the table and sat her down. Amy reached in her purse, and fished out the sufficient amount and paid him.

"Thank you." Simon said, and pocketing the cash. "Now, give me your hands."

Amy nodded and held out her hands. Simon took them, and closed his eyes, concentrating. "It's been three weeks since he left you, hasn't it?" asked Simon.

Amy gasped. He hadn't lost his touch. Feebly, she nodded.

"You and he are not done yet." The psychic told her.

"Excuse me?" asked Amy, confused. "We have a hearing on Tuesday, and then we're divorced."

"He has a greater role to play in the future of your child." Simon said; his eyes still closed.

"What do you mean?" Amy inquired of the mystic man.

"Is your neighbor well? Mrs. Gates," Simon asked, and Amy pulled her hands away, shocked.

"How did you know?" she asked, but Simon shook his head, reaching out and taking her hands again.

"The spirits know all, Miss Hunt." Simon said, frowning. "Now, you must not let any other interfere with the child. The child must be raised by yourself and yourself alone. Both fathers will play little importance after the birth."

There was a pause, when Simon continued to delve into the spiritual realm. "Miss Hunt, you must repair relationships with your neighbor, or the baby will face grave peril."

Amy stood up. "No! Charlene has stolen my husband. And he won't play a part in my child's life."

"I realize this is hard, as they are expecting too. But your child will be the survivor. You must nurture it with care and love. Do not let others raise your child." Simon warned, following Amy as she began to leave the room.

"Leave me alone!" Amy screamed, breaking into a run and exiting Simon's house, tears streaming down her pale face, as she ran for her car to go home.

As our childhoods draw to a close, we wish desperately for more time. Our memories fade, and it seems pointless in the endless circle which is life. We desire so much from life, that we cannot satisfy these as children. We rush through life headfirst, never thinking about what we are leaving behind. When Death comes, with his scythe in hand, we have no choice to admit we are only children in this world.


	16. Chapter 16: Awakening

**Chapter 16: Awakening**

There comes a time in life when we wake up to how harsh the world really is. We live a life of bliss and ignorance, and then we stumble across how cruel it is. It snatches away our loved ones, our family, our neighbors or even our possessions and pets. We grieve for our loss, but we mustn't abandon hope. This awakening gives us the strength to go on, and not look back. So long as we are strong, we are not blind, and our eyes are truly open.

The awakening of Terri Wilkinson however was one of a literal sense. The excruciating wait for the woman to awaken was almost unbelievable for Miss McHale. 

"You're awake."

The woman stared blankly at her. Her youthful face wore a bewildered smile, and Katy realized not all was as it seemed.

"Mrs. Wilkinson? Can you hear me?" Katy hesitated, before waving a hand before Terri's face. The woman's green eyes followed the movement of Katy's hand, with a jaded stare.

"Is there something wrong?" asked a voice, and Katy turned to see one of the nurses had been watching her. The nurse, young, with dyed pink hair and chewing gum suddenly dropped her clipboard.

"Mrs. Wilkinson? You're awake?" said the young medical student.

"Yes," Terri replied hoarsely. "Yes, I am."

---

Florence lay on the floor of her bedroom, scarcely able to move.

Her limbs ached with exhaustion and lack of nourishment. Her son had brought three square meals a day, but with each serving, Florence's paranoia of poisoning had prohibited her from touching the food.

It seemed centauries ago since she had caused the fatal accident which murdered her beloved husband. He was disloyal, and had slept with woman he'd met in bars. He had beaten Florence senseless, but underneath his tough exterior, Florence had seen the true Sam, and she had felt loved.

Her windows were closed, the bright sunlight masked by the oppressive black curtains which hung over them. The photographs on the walls had been knocked off, their frames shattered.

The bed was untidy, having not been made in weeks. Even in the gloom of the room where dust had begun to settle, ten, long white scratches covered by the wooden door.

"Why am I surrounded by this blood?" asked Florence, caught between reality and delusion.

There was a sudden click, and Florence gathered the effort to lift her head. The door opened, and Bobby entered. He bore no tray of food. Florence mustered the strength to sit up, and did so, propping herself against the wooden chest of drawers.

"Hello Mother." Bobby said, with a pitiless smirk over his face. Florence looked up into his merciless brown eyes, and she whimpered gently, tears staining her graying blouse.

"I was looking through some important documents today." Bobby continued over the gentle sobbing of his mother.

"It appears that everything Dad owned goes to you in the event of death." Bobby said. He reached out, and exerted a cruel grip on his mother's wrist. He pulled her to his feet, and his eyes met with hers. Florence knew nothing of the child which held her captive in her own home.

"It also turns out," Bobby continued, his nails digging into Florence's wrist. She gasped. "That if you die, I get everything you possessed: The house, the money, everything." Bobby began to draw blood from the wrist.

"I promise you Mother. I will avenge Father's death." Bobby said solemnly. "I will kill you."

---

The misty depths of the reflective glass glimmered in the morning sunlight. Mrs. Melissa Johnson had sat before the mirror many times.

She watched as the motes of light danced around her treasured possession, and sighed. She regretted her past. She bemoaned her choices, but most of all, she despised fate.

She stood, her long braided black hair falling silently across her shoulders. Worrisome brown eyes blinked away the tears. At times when her woe overwhelmed her, she turned to faith, to stop her denial and halt her sadness.

"Our Father," she prayed, as she clutched the strange opal dangling around her thin neck. "Who art in Heaven." She closed her eyes, and kneeled, not removing her grasp around her necklace. "I pray for the lost souls. I pray for those who do not believe." She felt the tears trickle down her face.

"I pray for Sonya, who is with you now. Amen." Melissa wept, as the sun rose slowly another day of regret and shame.

---

Meanwhile, at Number 14, a secret was about to be unveiled.

Andrew shuffled the papers awkwardly. Amy had gone out to visit Ellie. Andrew had returned to his research into Terri's murder.

He had information on every resident on this street; dental records to their résumés. One of them was the killer he was seeking.

He poured over the paper work, the laborious task absorbing him both mentally and physically once more.

He turned another sheet in the blue folder, and found himself staring directly into the eyes of his love; Amy Hunt's photo, pasted on a sheet of information about her. He sighed deeply, when a sudden ring emitted from the telephone.

It's single note echoed in the large house. Andrew closed the folder, and picked up the phone. "Hello?" he said.

"Andrew, I've been meaning to talk to you." said the voice on the other end, before coughing and wheezing.

"What is it? I don't have time for chit-chat." Andrew snapped coldly, standing up, holding the cordless phone tightly.

"I remember when you were just a lad, Andrew." said the voice, ignoring the man. "Always trying to play the hero. You were so stubborn."

"I don't have time for reminiscing either." Andrew replied quickly.

"As you wish; Mr. Dale." There was a series of coughs and splutters on the other end. A harsh breathing followed. "It seems your lover isn't as spotless as you would like to have hoped."

Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but the line went dead. "Amy?" he said in disbelief.

Upstairs, Catherine clamped a hand over her mouth, shocked by what she'd just heard from the phone.

"Mommy, what did you do?" she asked the empty room.

---

While Terri was joining the land of the living once more, another surprise was in store for Brad. The treasured home of the Wilkinson's was about to be graced by an unwelcome visitor.

Brad was in the kitchen, acting suspiciously. Locking the door to the kitchen and bolting the back door, he opened a wooden drawer on the cabinet. It seemed to be empty to the untrained eye, but Brad had an unusual cocky smile on his leering face.

Tapping gently on where the back of the cabinet began, it suddenly fell forward, the wooden panel nothing more than a mere disguise.

Hidden in the secret compartment was a fountain of unknown treasures. Wads of fresh, green notes fell out in abundance, and several passports revealed themselves. Trailed beads of pearl necklaces hung out of a deep maroon box.

But most importantly, a silver gun was stashed beneath these riches. Its gleam was speckled by dots of blood, and the chamber was incomplete. Missing one bullet, with the faint stench of gun-powder wafting down the barrel, it was a sight to behold.

Brad lifted the gun carefully, his face contorted into that of pleasure, holding the weapon as if it were made of glass.

A bell rang somewhere distant to Brad, who was lost in his twisted thoughts and memories.

He returned to reality, as his doorbell rang a second time. Returning the gun to its hiding place and replacing the panel, Brad took care to unlock both doors, whilst heading to answer the door.

He undid the latch, when the phone rang. Sighing deeply to himself, he picked up the receiver and a cool, female voice came out of it.

"Mr. Wilkinson, your wife has recovered from her coma."

Brad grinned, as he opened the door. Without a sound, the phone dropped from his hand, landing with a dull clunk on the oak floor. The door was wide open, and Brad gasped at who he saw.

"Hello Brad," Sophie said, stepping into his residence. "It's lovely to see you again,"

---

As Brad received his surprise, another woman was plotting the downfall of Mr. Wilkinson's neighbors.

Maria's eyelids remained closed, her body lifeless to those who cared to look. But to those who looked further, Maria's eyes darted wildly beneath their shut lids.

Not a moment had seemed to pass since Maria had been stabbed. Though robbed of her sight, due to endless slumber, her other senses were alert, wilder than ever.

Her untimely stabbing had been in the morning's papers. A nurse had read the morning paper aloud, as part of her dear niece and nephew-in-law's wish.

Ben and Ellie kept returning to her. Undoubtedly, her plotting niece had put Ben up to this foul task, but she felt no pity for the man who had married such a vicious woman. She despised her niece, Ellie, who had always taken pride in everything, leaving her favorite niece, Tanya, trailing in the dirt.

After Tanya's untimely death, Maria had lingered on, in dire hope for comfort or kindness. However, the only comfort to be sought was that of Ellie Jones, as every other family member had passed on.

Maria refused to loose the battle of life and death. She was awakened to Ellie's true nature, and she had to put a stop to this woman. Charlie was Tanya's child, no matter what the birth certificate said.

Maria would not have an untimely death. She would survive. And she would make Ellie pay for her attempts of murder.

Even if it killed her.

---

The Jones couple wasn't faring so well after Maria's 'attack'. At the mention of her name, Ben's stomach gave a sickening lurch. Troubled by his conscience, he hadn't slept in days. Bloodshot eyes haunted him, in his dreams and wherever else he cared to look.

Ellie struggled on, her guilt being cramped into a tiny corner of her mind. She hoped Maria's injuries would earn her a bed in God's home, but with each day, she feared her least-favorite aunt would survive.

The couple avoided each other, hoping they could avoid awkward moments. Then, the police called.

The doorbell rang twice as Ellie was putting on the kettle. Curiously, she left the steel kettle to heat up, heading to the door, and undoing the latch.

Behind the lace curtains were her greatest fear.

"Ma'am. We are representatives of the Appleby Police department," said a burly man with a thick moustache, but little hair on his head. He was a stout man.

Ellie looked to his right and saw a woman of her own age, a comfortable size with tawny hair and a look of mild curiosity.

With a courteous smile, Mrs. Jones invited the pair in, both of which smiled happily at this invitation, as the weather was becoming colder and bitter in these late autumn days.

Katy smiled kindly as there was a gentle chime. "Your kettle has boiled," she commented.

Ellie flushed. "How did you guess?"

"I have the same type at home. It's shaped like a duck." The female officer replied.

While the other lady went off to pour the tea, both police workers exchanged whispers in a hurried fashion, listening carefully to the sound of steaming hot liquid falling into the china cups.

"She seems friendly." Katy said, naively.  
"All murderers do," replied her boss, Collin.

"So you think she attempted to kill Maria?" Katy asked curiously, brushing hair from her eyes.

"I never doubt my instincts," Collin said to her, as Ellie returned, with a plate of cookies and three streaming mugs of tea on a steel tray.

The investigators positioned themselves on the beige leather sofa, opposite the threadbare armchair, where Mrs. Jones sank into.

"Is Mr. Jones available?" Collin said, his plump features narrowing suspiciously.

"My husband is at work," Ellie replied, smiling boldly. "He will be home in an hour,"

"Perhaps we should wait," Collin replied curtly, taking a long slurp of his tea.

Ellie frowned indignantly. "I'd much rather we do this now. I'm afraid the refreshments will run out"

"The refreshments can wait," Collin stood up, spills of tea hitting the lovely carpet.

"They're freshly baked cookies." Ellie snapped, standing up as well. "If they go cold, the flavor won't be as delicious."

"Calm down," Katy said, pulling her boss back into her seat. Ellie quickly rearranged the tray and sat down, crossing her legs and pursing her lips.

"Mrs. Jones," Katy said, after a few moments of agonizing silence. "We need to know if you know anything else about the attempted murder of Maria Stone."

Ellie shook her head, her face a picture of grief. "I'm afraid not" she said.

"I see," Collin said, as the police duo took to their feet. "We'll be in touch," he said, departing from the room.

"If you remember anything," Katy pulled a small, rectangle of plastic and passed it to Ellie. "Give me a call,"

Ellie nodded, and the police officer left, along with her partner.

The police were closing in. And Ellie had never felt more alone.

---

Amy put a hand on her weary and pregnant stomach.

She was packing her belongings from her old house, so she could move in with Andrew. She was searching through her drawers, when she noticed her bottle of Pink Lacoste had vanished. Searching deeper through the drawer, she found her favorite necklace, the silver one with the opal that Matt had purchased for her, was absent.

She continued her search, finding a small bag of an illegal substance. "Cocaine?" she wondered aloud, and then realized whose it was.

"Matt…he's been stealing from me…to fund his habit." She concluded.

She dropped the bag of her clothes, tears in her eyes. She ran for the door, forgetting about the clothes she'd left scattered across the floor.

She ran down the stairs and left via the front door. Sobbing hysterically, she made it to the road, when a car horn piped. And it all went black.

It is difficult in life to accept things happen for a reason. Our awakenings are personal and the shock which accompanies them, never manages to hide our fear and suspicion. The dreaded feeling of betrayal opens our eyes truly to the evils of this world. But no one can ever be fully forgiven for whatever harm they have inflicted. Some wounds never heal, especially those that we try to hide.


	17. Chapter 17: Dancing with Destiny

**Chapter 17: Dancing with Destiny**

Life flickers like the constant burning wick of a candle, eternally flickering. Memories; good and bad; drip like wax, slowing, cementing themselves in our minds, but as life draws on and the wick shortens, and slowly extinguishes. This candle of life that once burned brightly had lost its flame, like so many of us loose our way. Who will protect us when our light goes out? And can we step into the dark unknown?

Amy woke with tangled, blonde hair, and the smell of antiseptic in the air. Her blurred vision slowly focused on her pale, ebony-haired neighbour.

"Ben…" she croaked, over the continuous beeping of the machine beside her.

"Amy, I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes red and teary.

"For what?" asked the blonde, raising a hand to caress his worried, cold cheek.

"I hit you with my car," he confessed, turning away.

"It wasn't your fault," Amy said, her memory slowly returning, as painful as the physical agony she felt. "It's Matt's." she took Ben's hands. "He's been stealing from me…to fund his drug habit," she told Ben, who looked taken aback.

"I thought he kicked that habit," Ben said slowly, but Amy shook her head, her long golden locks fall past her shoulders. There was an awkward silence where both neighbours gazed into each other's eyes and realized they were more than neighbours. They were friends.

"We're getting a divorce," Amy said and Ben embraced her.

"I'm sorry Amy," Ben said, bringing a smile to her face and ending her pain

---

**(The translation of this scene can be found in Appleby Extras)**

Seansighed as the wind chime jingled, bringing a memory to mind which he'd rather not remember.

_Sean pulled the trigger. An echoing bang, the smell of gunpowder and a strangled scream as the Italian man grinned. Another leopard collapsed._

_Sean opened the door and entered. It was midnight and his safari outfit was splattered with blood. Praying not to wake his newly wed wife, he crossed the room and slid his gun into a wall-hung cabinet. There was a click and suddenly bright lights flared up, illuminating Sean. _

_Melissa stood on the stairs, an angry glare on her olive face. "Siete in ritardo!" she said, curtly._

"_Stavo lavorando" Sean told her._

"_Non stia a me!" she said, crossing the room to end up face-to-face with her husband. "Eravate ancora con il sig. Kwung, non eravate?" she inquired angrily._

"_È il commercio" replied her husband, turning away. _

_He walked into the kitchen and began to wash his bloodied hands. His wife followed, tightening the string cord around her lavender dressing gown. The curtains were drawn, but neighbours heard the screams. _

"_Da dove tutta questa anima è venuto?" she inquired, as the blood ran down the sink. "Avete ucciso un altro leopardo? Vi ho detto, Sean! È illegale! Non potete continuare a fare questo!" she screamed, as Sean ignored her. "Sean! Rispondami!" she screamed._

"_Vi ho detto. È il commercio." Sean snapped at his wife. She slapped him. _

"_Ci è senza dubbio voi ed il sig." She screamed passionately. "Kwung è ricco! Uccidendo quei leopardi e vendere la loro carne di decomposizione come vestiti. È ripugnante. Rifiuto di essere associato con tali cose."_

"_Ascolti me, Melissa." Sean said finally, grabbing her by the wrist and holding her tightly. His voice was calm and paced. "Sto facendo questo in modo da possiamo vivere. Una volta che sono fatto con questo ultimo lavoro, rinuncerò e lasceremo l'Africa e rinvieremo in Italia. È quello che cosa desiderate?" he asked._

"_Nessun Sean, desidero fuoriuscire tutto questo." cried Melissa angrily. "Sono malato delle bugie. Desidero un divorzio." _

_Sean growled, tightening his grip. "Non ci sarà divorzio. Farò stasera il mio lavoro e voi, la I e Sonya andrete di nuovo al tommorrow dell'Italia. Se non, ucciderà Sonya!" he snapped, and Melissa gasped._

"_Forse mi ucciderò, allora!" cried a voice from the stairs. With olive skin and green, piercing eyes, Sonya glared down at them. "Li odio, padre. Odio che cosa state facendo. Se lo amate, non farete questo i lavori per il sig. Kwung."_

_Sean turned away, and then nodded. "Io volontà, Sonya."_

Sean shook himself, and turned to the customer who had entered. In the corner of his eye, he saw Melissa, braiding her long black hair. "What can I get you?" he asked the customer as the memory faded.

---

Maria remembered the night she had nearly died for the first time. She remembered every miniature and insignificant detail as vivid as a film in her mind. The agony, which spread through every atom in her being, had nearly destroyed her. The night she died.

"-_Leave me alone, boy!" screamed Maria, her eyes bulging. The older woman grabbed an ornamental knife from the mantelpiece, and threw Ben against the window._

_The windowpanes shivered, as delicate raindrops hit them._

"_You should not have taken that baby." She said; ready to pierce his beating heart._

_There was a scream, and a dull gold object hit Maria on the head. Ben saw his wife, Ellie, with a nasty wound on her head, clutching a candlestick._

_Maria lay dead. Or so Ben thought._

"_What did I do?" Ellie asked._

_Ben ran to his wife, while Maria lay in a state neither conscious nor dead. The room swam before them, and the voices of her niece and nephew-in-law sounded distant and foreign to Maria. _

"Ellie, listen to me. We have to get rid of her body," Ben said to her, cradling his hysterical wife in his arms.  
"She was going to kill you," whimpered Ellie, not focusing on anything in particular.

"_Ellie, pull yourself together," Ben said, shushing her. He lifted Maria's body into his arms and carried her out into the back garden. Ellie followed, slowly, whispering quietly. _

_The grass was soaked with the recent rainfall from the afternoon. A cold, bitter wind had swept up and its icy gust stabbed the three, casually clothes figures with agonizing bitter coldness._

_Ben deposited Maria on the flower beds, crushing the dying petunias. The navy blue sky opened suddenly, and a rushing downpour soaked all three figures. Ben's shirt clutched to his soaking torso, and Ellie's wavy hair was drenched by the cold torrent. The pair ran back to their warm home and slammed the door shut. _

_Maria laid still, blood washing from her dark clothes. She opened her eyes, and blinked, the icy rain hit her. She saw the black curtains draw, hiding her family from view. She stood up, and put a hand to the congealed blood on her head. Pushing dark hair from her eyes, and threw herself over the neighbour's fence with her last burst of energy. She lay still for some time, the green grass and blue sky blurring into grey. _

_Morning had come before she had roused herself. She was lay still, her body numb and her lips blue. She got up, shivering and looked around. The whole area seemed deserted, and dark. Her clothes hugged her tightly, wet and heavy. She took to her feet and headed back towards her home in Pearview. When home, she sank into a leather sofa, coughing, now wearing dry clothes. _

_Her health had been seriously affected by this night in the rain, but her ambition wasn't. Full of determination, she resolved what she would do. She would find a way to get even. Moreover, she would make her niece pay._

As the clock struck midnight, its single chime running through the building, Maria woke up.

---

The doorbell rang.

Ben looked up, his eyes wide and alert. Ellie looked across the sitting room at him. After Ben had returned from visiting Amy in hospital, he had being extremely shaky. Ellie had tried to soothe him, but every little sound had sent him into panic.

The doorbell rang again, and Ellie got up to answer the door. She returned moments later, with Collin and Katy.

"We have news," Katy said as the couple sat down opposite the police duo. "Mrs. Maria Stone has woken from her coma."

Ben looked at his wife. "That's…excellent" he said, his voice breaking.

"Considering she is now awake," Collins continued; his monotonous voice drawing on and his grey eyes boring into Ellie's. "We have some newfound evidence about her attacker."

Ben's heartbeat quickened. He gripped Ellie's hand, and bit his lip, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.

"She told us that it was you, Mr Jones, who stabbed her." Collin said, smiling. His pale hand reached for his gun.  
"I'm afraid we're going to have to take you down to the station, Mr. Jones," Katy said, brandishing a pair of handcuffs.

Ben stared at the dull grey steel, which would soon be binding his wrist to Katy's. He couldn't go to prison, he couldn't!

"You'll have to come with me, Mr. Jones," Katy said kindly, standing up.  
"No…I can't…" Ben said, likewise standing. "You won't take me," he protested.

"Mr. Jones!" Collins said, standing beside his colleague.

"Ben!" Ellie gasped simultaneously with Collin.

"You won't take me," Ben repeated. "Not like this," he said, taking a step backwards.

"Stay where you are!" Collin bellowed, brandishing his pistol. Ellie screamed.

Ben backed up as against the patio door, stretching out his arm to open the door.  
"Mr. Jones, if you try to escape; you will be apprehended by any means necessary!" Katy screamed.

"Ben!" wailed Ellie, as suddenly, the patio door slid open.

In a single second, three things happened. Both woman squealed as Collin fired a round at Ben. Ben threw the door open, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Air gushed in and filled the room with an icy cold gust. Ellie and Katy fell back, and the bullet hit the windowpane and cracked it into several shards. Ben ran out in the back garden, swallowed by the darkness.

"Mr. Jones!" Collin yelled, running into the garden. The floodlights burst into life suddenly, revealing nothing but sleeping petunias and dozing bluebells. Collin angrily fired another shot into the air, and a bird shrieked.

"He's gone," Collin said, returning to the two, covering women.  
"Collin!" Katy snapped, forcefully snatching the gun from her colleague's hand. "You were told never to threaten a guilty person with a gun!"  
"I am in control, Katy," Collin snapped. "I am your superior,"

"Then I quit!" Katy yelled, throwing her gold badge at the floor.

Collin's face turned an angry purple colour. "Fine," he said, grabbing his suitcase and leaving.

"I hope I can help," Katy said, turning to Ellie, who was shivering in the corner of the room. "I want to help find your husband. I want to prove he's innocent,"

---

The room was dark, as the curtains were drawn. Only several lit candles illuminated the room, and Nadine and Tom were lay on the red bedspread, kissing passionately.

When they parted, Nadine stared into Tom's blue eyes as he looked into her grey eyes.

"Our parents will kill us," Nadine said, worriedly.

"We'll tell them after tonight," Tom said, kissing her on the neck.

Nadine smiled. "Oh Tom, you're so sensitive," she whispered. "I love you," she mouthed, as the pair kissed again, wrapping their arms around each other in a lustful embrace.

Tom ran his hands through her hair and inhaled deeply the lovely scent of lavender. He kissed her on the forehead. Nadine rested her head against his head, looking up into his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tom asked her, and Nadine's eyes twinkled, smiling.  
"Yes, I am. If my parents don't realize until I'm twenty-five weeks, then they can't abort it," Nadine said, as their bodies grew closer, and they kissed once more, their love about to create a new life in that very room.

---

When Terri went into a coma, the only thing that kept her alive was her sense of self. This constant pillar of strength supported her when no one else was there.

Now, she was awake, and though her memory was fragmented and her thoughts scrambled, she was heading home to her husband and children, where the grave event had happened, six months ago.

As the taxi stopped outside her house, she climbed out to see that much had changed within those six months while she slumbered.

The smell of flowers and fresh bread had gone from the street, leaving a bitter and unpleasant taste in the air. A cold wind swept up, uncurling Terri's long dark hair. She shielded emerald eyes and headed up the path to her home.

The grass lay untended and wild. Weeds had strangled her beautiful plants, murdering them pitilessly. Terri sighed deeply, noting her plants had been left to wither and die without water or care.

She noticed the peeling white paint on her door, as she gently pressed the doorbell. She observed the grey skies as the heavens opened and snow fell. The door opened.

"Terri?"  
"Sophie?"

Both woman exchanged glances, shocked by each other.

"I thought you were dead," Sophie said to Terri. "That's what he told me, anyway," jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

Brad stepped out of the shadows, looking worse-for-wear. Stubble had built up on his chin, and his hair was short and black. His eyes were cold and empty.

"Hello Terri,"

"Hello Brad,"

The two lovers maintained a fierce glance, which neither understood nor broke.

"Would you like to come in?" asked Sophie, as snow began to build up.

"I think I would," Terri said, brushing snow from her hair and stepped inside to where it all began.

Life burns like a candle, warming out winter months and filling them with cheer. When the candle goes out, all light is lost and so are we. Our Shepard's abandon us in hope of a new light, and we stumble in darkness and misery. Terri's life had flickered and burned dimly and hopelessly. However, its light had burned on, and she lived on. When the light is extinguished, we bid goodbye to a dear fellow, and the death of a friend is devastating, especially when they live…just next door.


	18. Chapter 18: Son of a Sinner

**Chapter 18: Son of a Sinner**

When we are sinners, we fear our comeuppance for all the bad deeds we have done. The guilt of our sins weigh us down and our 'just deserts' will come eventually. When we are sinking in our own felony, someone will save us from our depression and help us to swim. Though we may be unable to conquer such sadness, we can hold it back. However, there will be a time when we must decide between what is right and what is easy. Whichever choice we choose, will help us swim or sink when the time comes.

As winter approached the street, icy cold breezes blew in conjunction with falling snow. Covered in the white powder, the whole street looked picturesque. However, behind each oak door, the vision of flawlessness was severely erroneous. As the snow settled on their lawns and rooftops, the residents of Appleby Street warmed their houses, fearing to step out into the blissful blizzard that appeared erratically every hour or so.

In Number 10, Ellie mused over the fate of her otherwise absent husband. Her children had taken kindly to Katy, who was lying dormant in the spare bedroom, was more than welcome, only infrequently asking for assistance for her investigation. Ellie stared out of the frosty window with a glazed look upon her young, troubled face. Her husband had been gone for several days now and unless Maria halted the incessant chase, Ben would be hunted like an animal until he was captured and imprisoned. Ellie was not ready to raise three children by herself, and rested a hand sadly on her stomach.

At Number 11, Matt sat alone by the fire, its burning embers lighting his darkened, troubled face. Without money, the drug dealers were closing in. The house bore scars from previous encounters. The windows downstairs had all being shattered, shards scattered across the floor. The bed sheets had being slashed into strips of fabric and his secret stash stolen. The furniture of his living room was now in pieces, the only fuel for his sombre fire as the heating had died long again. Matt sighed, and threw another chair leg into the flames.

Meanwhile, at Number 12, the atmosphere was as cold as outside. With the clashing personalities of amnesiac Terri and the mysterious houseguest, Sophie, Brad was lucky to escape into his garden, his footprints disappearing as fresh snow fell. Brad headed for the Wilkinson shrine, for warmth. His wife's return had being one of the most unexpected events in his life, but Sophie's arrival was more shocking. The freezing cold had frozen the door shut and Brad sighed deeply, as he trudged back to the house.

At Appleby Store, positioned at number 13, The Johnson's were settling down to a warm lunch, steam filling the previously chilling room. Melissa had abandoned her usual dress, styling an elaborate headscarf, with several brooches attached to her lavender-coloured gown. A large, warm cardigan covered the lacy top of the dress, and she shivered as she closed the curtains, as her husband entered the room, two steaming plates of food. Melissa smiled, and sat down at the wooden table.

At Number 14, Amy was pondering over her troublesome decisions. She lay on the comfortable, moth-eaten couch, her hand resting gently on her heavily pregnant stomach. Six months were nearly up, and the seventh month – dawning and Christmas was getting closer. She wondered if she was making the right choice, and who was the father of her unborn child. She pondered if she should keep this child – who had brought so much sadness and destruction in her life. She considered Simon's words carefully, as a single tear rolled down her pale, troubled face.

Number 15 – home of the Gates was relatively empty as the also heavily pregnant Charlene awaited the divorce procedure, which would bring her one-step closer to becoming Amy. Her obsession had become a passionate endeavour to secure her as the Queen she so desired to be. Matt's child gave a slight kick. Charlene had left Erin, who made her sick to look at. The daughter she never wanted was her first child. Charlene hoped she would not be her last.

Over at Number 16, Florence was crying once more. No tears left her eyes – her sobs were dry and had lasted for several days – but her son did not hear her wails, and ignored her pleas, as his mother slowly began to go mad in her own paranoia and loss of self. Her clothes were dirtied and her legs had surrendered long ago, no strength to help her move. Her irregular breathing slowly became normal as she stopped crying, her sanity returning to her as the sunlight rose. She hatched a daring and dangerous plan – she would have to murder her own son…or die trying.

At Number 17, it was quiet. Since the sudden death of Mrs. Catherine Gardener, the house had fallen into a state of disrepair. Dust and snow had settled on most of the furniture – courtesy of an open window. Nothing had being touched, all classed as 'evidence' but no police officers called by to inspect such a dying house. The flowers struggled for air and sunlight beneath the powder snow, dying slowly and coldly. However, the house wasn't dead yet – it had one more secret hidden between its four walls, if any cared to look.

Finally, at Number 18, Emily sat at her dressing table, bringing an expensive oak brush to her blonde hair. Relentless hours of combing had turned it into a long wave of silky blonde hair. She sighed, her Hen night was nearly upon her, and the wedding was the following week. She wondered about her cheating husband, and asked herself if she could walk up the aisle and say those two words "I do."

The families of Appleby Street were sad as Christmas approached them, but more horrors were about to fall on them as snow descended on the small town and buried the woes in the snowflakes.

Ellie was sat on one of the sofas, reclining sleepily as she checked her daughter's homework – a chore usually carried out by her missing husband when Kai Jones burst into the room with a revelation that shocked her to her very core.

"Mummy!" he cried. "Daddy's in the back garden!"

Ellie held her breath. Katy, who was also sat in the room, reading a well-known novel, dropped it to the floor, turning her spectacled head to face the young boy.

Kai had chocolate brown hair, and bright brown eyes. He looked a lot like his father, a boyish smile and rosy cheeks. "Daddy's in the garden, Mummy!" he repeated, breathlessly.

"That's impossible dear," Ellie said, finally, trying to calm herself in case Katy got any glimpse of excitement. "He went away, remember?" she said, her eyes lingering on the bullet holes.

"I saw him!" Kai protested angrily. "He said to tell you he loves you. And he said he misses me, Nadine and Charlie loads." Kai frowned, as if trying to remember something else. "Oh, and he said to tell Mrs. Katy that she'll never catch him,"

An awkward silence rung in the room for several minutes, while Kai looked at both women's faces, excitement radiating from every pore on his young face.

"He's right, Kai," Katy said finally, crouching down to pick up her book. "I'll never catch him," she smiled sweetly. "Why don't you go and play with your toyes?"

Kai obliged and left the room, and Katy turned to face the other woman. Ellie showed no sign of shock or delight at this new, remaining calm. 

"Boys will be boys," she said cryptically, as she secretly thought to herself inside; _'Trust Ben – teasing the law.' _

As Matt climbed the stairs of his deserted house, he reviewed his choices in life, remembering back to the day Terri had been shot – six months ago. He'd woken on his kitchen floor. He remembered the night before and his illicit affair with Susan – the drug dealer's sister.

_The air was full of the smell of smoke and loud music. Screams came from every corner of the dingy bar on Addams Close. Bright lights flashed around the dark room every so often, and a DJ would shout the title of the next track. _

_Matt Bourne wondered for a moment why he was here, walking across the dance floor, not looking at the other couples who seemed so engrossed with each other, and sucking each other's face off._

_There was another burst of screams and laughter as a well-know theme came on, and the crowd began to sing loudly. Smoke began to billow out of hidden vents below the DJ. Matt stumbled drunkenly, carrying a lager in his hand, which spilled onto the floor. His white shirt was stained with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. He hiccoughed, and bumped into a woman which eh instantly fell in love with._

"_Hello love," she said, with a wide smile. Her lips were thickly covered by orange lipstick, and sparkly fountain covered her face. She grinned another toothy grin. "Where are you off to, handsome?"_

_Matt felt his cheeks redden. "I was going to leave…" he trailed off._

"_Don't leave, love," she said. "Stay a while, and dance" she ran a finger across his chest. _

_Matt gasped at his gesture. He had never being so shocked. Without thinking, he accidentally spilled half of his pint of the girl. Her white blouse began drenched and see-through. Matt's eyes widened, and she laughed! He had never met someone so kind and comforting._

_Only an hour later, the pair were rolling about under the satin duvet of a stranger's bed. Matt kissed the girl passionately, who whispered sensually, both caught in the heat of the moment. Without a thought for his waiting wife at home, Matt bedded Susan that night._

_It was not until morning, that he realized his mistake. Fleeing from the cheap motel, he headed home, his thoughts concentrated on home. When he arrived at the silent house on an early Sunday morning, he grabbed a packet of cigarettes, lit one, and took a long drag. His shaking nerves calmed, and his face regained its colour. He coughed a little, and threw the cigarette in the recycle bin._

_He reached up for a bottle of expensive champagne and began to drink its tantalizing liquor, the chilled drink filling his mind with a strange, perfumed sense of reality. He sighed deeply, before passing out, the bottle in his hand._

Matt found himself gazing upon his family portrait, a beautiful photo in a wooden frame, which showed the Bourne family, smiling and laughing. Amy and he looked so happy, with their two young children, Tom and Catherine. He held the photograph before the burning fire, before throwing it in, watching the paper curl and burn.

His life with Amy was over.

A day later, the Crown Court buzzed with the sound of chatter and life. Today would be the divorce of Amy and Matt, and the two would no longer be married. They hoped for an easy day, but fate had a different plan in mind.

Amy and Matt looked across the courtroom at each other, nervous apprehension crossing both of their faces. Beside Matt, stood Charlene, wearing a black ensemble as if this were a funeral. She smirked.

Trevor Edwards stood in the centre of the room, saying something to the Judge – a stout man with a white wig over his auburn hair.

"I see," said the Judge, his many chins wobbling. "And on what grounds does Miss Hunt request a divorce?"

Amy took a deep breath. "My husband is sleeping with my neighbour," she said. "She is pregnant with his child, too"

The judge nodded, his chins shuddering beneath his obese face. "And on what grounds does Mr. Bourne request a divorce?" he asked.

Matt turned pale. Charlene whispered something in his ear and he nodded, lacking enthusiasm. "My wife is sleeping with a man across the road, while she is pregnant with my baby," he said, and the jury gasped.

"That's…not true, your honour," Amy snapped.  
The Judge frowned. "Which part?" he inquired.

"The baby is not his," she admitted tearfully.

Everyone held his or her breath. Matt looked horrified, whilst his partner looked smug. The Judge opened his mouth, but words failed him.

"Miss Hunt, you told me in strictest confidence that it was his child," said Trevor, pointing towards Matt, who's face was drained of colour.

"No," she said. "My husband is a drug addict, he smokes within the vicinity of my children, and I know he has beaten my son several times," Amy said as the tears spilled down her face.

"Objection!" Charlene screamed, but the Judge shook his head.

"Overruled," he said. "Please continue, Miss Hunt,"

"My eldest, Tom, has sustained several bruises from supposed 'Play' fights with his father," Amy continued, drying her tears and glaring up at the two figures opposite.

"That is a lie!" bellowed Charlene, but she was ignored.

"My husband has pressured me into sleeping with someone else!" Amy shrieked hysterically. "That woman stole my husband!"

"Why you little-!" Charlene got to her feet and threw herself at Amy. Both pregnant women screamed, tearing at each other's hair and cursing frequently. Matt watched; his mouth wide open.

"Order, order!" squealed the Judge but nobody listened to his cries.

"You jealous tart!" shrieked Amy, as she thrust her nails deep into Charlene's skin.

"You lying cow!" roared Charlene, pulling furiously on Amy's hair.

"You envious man-eater!" screamed Amy, slapping her neighbour across the face.

"You filthy slag!" yelled Charlene, tearing the other woman's blouse.

Without a bellow of rage, several guards were brought in, restraining the two women, both sporting bloody noses and bust lips. Both continued shouting insults across the courtroom.

"I hereby grant the divorce of Matt Bourne and Amy Hunt on the terms of drug possession, dual-adultery and the lack of courtesy to fight in my courtroom!" bellowed the Judge. "Get them out of my sight,"

Charlene smiled. She had won.

The night dawned, as the snow ceased to fall over the street. An eerie stillness came to the houses of Appleby Street, as the sunset and the sky became inky blue. The moon was hidden by clouds, and only the street lamps led Emily Thomas's guests to her Hen night.

The sound music, alongside raucous laughter echoed from the house. Drunken cries rattled the street.

Inside the Thomas residence, the women of Appleby Street were shrieking with laughter as Hollywood hunks reigned over their screens. Upstairs, the men were watching a football match, singing their favourite team's anthem and drinking the lager, which Dylan had brought. Florence, Terri and Sophie were absence, as well as their families. Brad was looking after the children of the street in the Wilkinson residence

"Oh, Emily," Amy said, as she plaited the soon-to-be wedded women's hair. "You'll look so beautiful in white," she giggled and hiccoughed – the women has secured some white wine.

"I wish Amy," Emily replied, fighting back the tears.

"What is it, Emily?" asked Melissa, who was painting her nails in a vibrant pink.

"I think…I think…" she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I think he's cheating on me,"

The women shook their heads. "No, he wouldn't," they said soothingly, as an outburst of cheering came from upstairs.

"He's not dear," Melissa said soothingly.

"I hope so," Emily said. She doubted if she could walk up the aisle, and say those two words, which would marry her to the man she loved.

The women soothed her, whilst the men sang cheerfully.

Ellie left the bathroom at Emily's house to find herself face-to-face with Alex Dale.

Ellie had always found him attractive. There was something about his tanned skin, white smile, muscular body and black locks of hair shading his mysterious grey eyes. She felt her heart flutter, and she smiled vaguely back at him.

"Hello there," he said. Ellie felt her heart thump loudly against her ribcage. His voice sounded heavenly. She looked quickly at the wedding ring on her finger.

"Ellie, is it?" he asked, flashing a perfect smile at her.

"Yes," Ellie breathed, hanging onto his every word.

"I'm Alex, we met before," he said, his hand jutting forward. Ellie shook his promptly, and smiled at him, lust in her eyes.

"Are you married?" Alex asked after several moments of silence. He gestured to her ring.  
"I…was," Ellie said, removing the ring and pocketing it. "But my husband is on the run," she said.

Alex smiled. "I was married once," he sighed, a memory he did not want to remember. "Didn't go well," he told her.

They stared into each other's eyes. Alex lowered his head as Ellie lifted hers. Their lips met, and Ellie was filled with bliss and joy. Within that moment, both of them shared each other's misguided love in that fraction of passionate.

Their lips parted, Ellie's eyes closed as she implanted this into her memory. With another lustful exhale, she opened them, and looked into his grey pupils.

And she knew she loved him.

As the night drew on, the cloud parted and the moon's light was reflection by the powdery snow, making everything glistening with an abnormal light.

The silvery beams revealed all secrets of the houses, as Amy slept peacefully in Andrew's bed. Her lover had not returned from Dylan's party yet, so she strayed between consciousness and sleep.

There was a sudden click downstairs, and Amy stirred slowly, and heard the door close.

'_Andrew must be back'_ she thought to herself, and she counted as she heard his feet against the stairs.

The landing floor creaked, and Amy stirred. Why was he creeping across the landing? Was he trying to surprise her? Without warning, the door burst open, and Amy found herself restrained against the bed by a pair of strong hands.

"Listen to me," it said, and Amy realised who it was.

"Simon!" she gasped, by his hand found her mouth and muffled her cries.

"You must keep this child," he whispered urgently, and Amy felt tears run down her face as his grimy fingernails dug into her skin.  
"My child, you are in grave peril!" he whispered. "Repair relationships with your neighbour or your child will suffer," he continued.

There was a click downstairs, and Andrew's gleeful laughter echoed in the hall.

"I beg you, Amy, do not abandon this child!" Simon told her. "No matter what it costs you, you must save this child above all others," he warned.

Andrew's footsteps echoed on the staircase.

"You child will be the survivor, Miss Hunt," he said, releasing his grip on her arm. "Take heed of my warning Amy, or it will be you in the grave marked for another,"

The light flickered on. Andrew crossed the room and threw his arms around Amy, as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Kai sat in his room, playing with his model aeroplane. He was silent. Brad watched him from the doorway, and could have sworn that Kai had a strange look in his eyes – that, of a sinner's son.

All sinners must pay in the end. We wait all our lives in fear of our sins. When the time comes, can we fight against our fate? Is it our choice to decide our own destiny? The light that guides us, may flicker from time-to-time, but it is always there. We only need look in the right direction. What is easy and what is right – a choice we all must take but only the brave will choose what is right. Appleby Street was about to exchange its questions for answers, answers that would destroy people…


	19. Chapter 19: Happily Ever After?

**Chapter 19: Happily Ever After?**

When we take our sacred vows on our wedding day, we vow to love and to cherish the one we are to marry. We promise so many things that we cannot possibly hope to keep them all. When we walk up the aisle, we say the two words, which can alter our lives forever. Those two sacred words cement a marriage – "I do." What if we weren't to say them, would it alter the course of our lives to a degree beyond which we can control? And would we live, happily ever after?

Emily awoke to her wedding day, with butterflies in her stomach.

Exhausted, yet exhilarated, Emily found herself shaking as she went down for breakfast, then returned upstairs to begin to prepare.

She applied her make-up, staring into the mirror, her pale skin shining pallid through gentle fuchsia blusher.

Reaching for her brush, she thought of Dylan, the man she would marry. Her thoughts were laced with frantic last-minute wonderings.

Moments of bleak panic filled her, but she was quick to soothe herself, by concentrating on the laborious task.

Satisfied with her toilette, and beautifully curled locks of gold, she headed for the wardrobe, slipping in a pair of jeans and a lacy crop-top. She looked at the white wedding dress, which she would be wearing before noon.

A bubble of joy burst within her, and she felt her eyes well up with tears. Within warning, she burst into tears and her make-up ran, her eyes now resembling those of a giant panda.

She cried for anguish she had put Dylan and Jay through, and she wept for her love for this man. She sobbed for a renewed chance, and she whined for a perfect day.

She headed to the en-suite and washed her face of the ruined make-up, and returned to the dressing table to reapply the makeup.

Her monotonous life of adultery and isolation was finally over. The spell was broken.

She would be Mrs. Dylan Waters before the lunchtime.

Melissa sat in the spare room of Appleby Store, a room masked by dust of countless boxes of supplies. The room was cold, well ventilated and frosty to preserve the frozen goods.

Melissa was sat in the corner, perched on a small stool, examining the contents of one of the small cardboard boxes. She sighed, a desperate loneliness overwhelming her as she remembered Sonya.

And the cruel death she had being given.

_Sonya gazed out into the lonely night. The sky was midnight blue, with specs of white stars glittering high in the heavens. In this lonely house, outside of Hinsdale, resided the Johnson's. _

_It was their first house in this country. They had lived in Italy once before, and they had returned from Africa to purchase this small bungalow in the middle of nowhere._

"_Mother," Sonya said, her young eyes twinkling with hope. "When will Daddy be home?"_

_Melissa looked up from her knitting to her daughter. Sonya was a pretty child, nearly nineteen and amazingly gifted by both her cherub-like looks and her unchallenged intellect. Waves of silk black hair framed a pale, freckled face with youthful green eyes. Melissa smiled proudly at her only daughter. _

"_He's at home, Sonya," Melissa replied innocently. "He'll be home soon,"_

_Melissa returned to her knitting, sewing her blanket from the multicoloured thread from her small, black box – engraved with a silver elephant. A gift from Sean._

"_He's at work, dear. You know how it is," Melissa said, breaking the awkward silence that had fell between the two women._

_Sonya glared coldly at her mother, her eyes now contorted into sparkling emeralds of rage. "Mother, I know what Daddy does."_

_Melissa didn't know how to respond, so remained silent._

_  
"Daddy kills innocent people because his boss tells him. In Africa he hunted rare, endangered animals." Sonya shrieked hysterically. "Yet you sit at home and let him!"_

_Melissa continued to feign deafness, so Sonya continued, her voice slowly rising. _

"_Why don't you stop him mother? He's a criminal. He is a filthy convict. His hands should be laced with cuffs, rather than garnished by expensive watches!" Sonya cried in desperation._

_Without warning, Melissa stood up, her calm face now transformed into a mask of rage. "Listen to me, Sonya" snapped Melissa. "Your father works as hard as he can to supply us with the very tools to keep us alive. What he does is his business alone! You will not speak to me like that again, or you will be very sorry!"_

_Sonya slammed the door shut, her eyes now concentrated on her outraged mother. "Daddy is a murderer. You are his accomplice. I'll inform the police in the morning, and perhaps I can start a life without you and Daddy drowning me in your desperate world of crime and despair!"_

"_You're so desperate to move out that you'd hand in your own mother." Melissa said, taken aback by this revelation._

"_I'd rather die than help you and Dad cover up your malicious lives of treachery and crime!" Sonya bellowed._

_  
"Then, so be it!" Melissa said. Without warning, she lunged forward, knocking Sonya to the floor. Her daughter struggled to breathe, her lungs empty and gasping. _

_  
"You don't have the guts to kill me," Sonya managed to gasp, and Melissa brought her hand onto Sonya's cheek, a loud 'slap' echoing as a red handprint bruised Sonya's beautiful face.  
_

_Thinking quickly, Melissa ran for the kitchen, and retrieved Sean's prized possession – his hunting rifle that had being framed on the wall._

_She returned to the living room to find Sonya on her feet and reaching for dialling keys, her finger hovering above 'nine'._

"_I'm sorry it had to end this way, mother." Sonya said without a hint of remorse._

"_Put that phone down or you will be very sorry you ever crossed me," Melissa breathed heavily, cocking the rifle and aiming for her daughter's heart. She had sufficient training from Sean to know how to kill her prey._

_Sonya said nothing - simply indenting the 'nine' key, with a vivacious smirk on her face. The dialling tone was the final sound Sonya heard, as within the millisecond, a bullet pierced her heart, cracking her ribs and tore away at the muscles and tissue. A scream left her voice box but never escaped her mouth, as she collapsed on the cold, hard, wooden floor, surrounded by a pool of her own dark blood. _

_The blood slowly oozed from the wound, slowly dripping onto the priceless rug. _

'_Drip. Drip. Drip.' _

_Its noise echoed in Melissa's ears as she thought of the enormity of the crime she had committed. A dry sob left her throat, and she dropped the gun, sobbing gently into her hands as the blood spread over the floor and Sonya laid dead._

'_Drip. Drip. Drip.'_

**  
**Melissa looked up at the sound of dripping, and realized she had left the tap on, trying to wash the imaginary blood from her eternally stained hands.

With a sigh of torment and despair, she grasped the handle and secured it, ceasing the dripping of water.

"Father…forgive me for I have sinned," Melissa said, looking to the sky through a dirty window, seeking advice from the heavens.

"Whoosh!"

Kai sat with Catherine, his blue airplane circling the pink one which she held.

"Stop it Kai!" whined Catherine. Catherine strongly resembled her radiant mother, with golden curls and an angelic face – which was upturned into a pout.

"Kai, I don't want to play airplanes" she protested, as Ben's son continued to make plane noises and circle Catherine.

"I want to talk about my mummy, Kai" Catherine whined, and Kai stopped, putting his plane back in the toy box looking very disgruntled.

"My mummy says my new daddy is Andrew." Catherine said in a very matter-of-factly voice, even though she was only eight.

"What about your old daddy?" Kai wondered, the younger of the two at seven and nine months – precisely.

"Mummy said my old Daddy is going away and not coming back because he's being naughty." Catherine said, a puzzled expression crossing her face,

"My daddy has run away" Kai said. "Mummy said he went on holiday and is going to bring back loads of presents." The child's eyes lit up in anticipation.

"My mummy said your daddy ran away because nasty people were after him." Catherine said returning her pink plane to the toy box, a thoughtful look crossing her young face.

"Mummy was crying when he left though," Kai said. "Maybe nasty people were making her sad too."

There was a sudden pause, stillness among the youths as they recollected on what they had discussed and the thoughts that stormed around their brains, each theory more ridiculous than the last.

"Why don't our parents tell us the truth?" asked a sad Kai after the silence.

"They don't think we'd like it," Catherine concluded, smiling kindly at Kai. "My mummy says I'm too little."

"So does my mummy." Kai said grumpily.

Without warning, the oak door swung open and a loud bang echoed when it made contact with the wall.

"It's Lunchtime, kiddo" said Nadine to Kai and Catherine. "Catherine, Tom said he'll take you home later, so you can have your lunch here."

Kai noticed his older sister was tightly gripping Tom's hand.

"Nadine? Where's daddy?" asked Kai, smiling sweetly.

"He's…" Nadine struggled to find a word. "…Safe," she concluded. "He'll visit again when he can,"

A grin crossed Kai's face. "Everything's going to be just fine," he said, as they went downstairs for Lunch.

A smoky atmosphere settled in the Dale Household. While the remnants of the Bourne family were at the Jones house, Andrew and Alex settled down into business once more.

Piles of paperwork mounted around the men, and Alex coughed slightly as he inhaled with a cigarette in his open mouth.

"Put that out," snapped Andrew, beads of sweat and a look of concentration creasing his face.

"When have you being 'Mum'?" retorted Alex, obliging all the same and extinguishing the smoking stick.

"Since you were five years old," snapped Andrew irritably, wrinkles deepening in his skin. "Now concentrate on this." He produced a sheet of paper, which detailed the residents of each house.

"We've narrowed it down to these three," he circled Brad, Charlene and surprisingly, Catherine Gardener.

"She's dead though," Alex gestured to Catherine's photograph. "Someone killed her,"

The smoky atmosphere subsided, and sunlight poured through the grimy blinds. Dust gathered on them, making them seem old. Andrew reached for them.

"Explain why she had a house full of Terri's childhood stuff" he said, closing the blinds, darkness enveloping them.

A torch flickered on, and panic diminished. "I will find Terri's killer," Andrew vowed, his eyes bearing a solemn strength about them. Alex watched his older brother, the dark circles beneath the bright blue eyes. He looked older, premature wisps of grey in his faint brown hair.

"Hey, Andy," Alex said, after several moments had passed. "Why are you so obsessed with catching Terri's killer?"

Andrew pressed his lips tightly together, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Because," he began, his eyes shining with maturity. "Terri is my wife's sister."

The room was dark, shrouded by a cloak of shadows that was unnatural for this time of the day. A sole figure, stood in front of the robed windows, watched the door, waiting. Her eyes left the door, focusing on a white vase, decorated with pale blue flowers.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor brought Sophie's eyes back to the door. Brad entered, flicking the solitary switch and illuminating the room.

"Sophie." He whispered, closing the door slowly, before sliding across the floor and joining the other woman on the other side and kissing her on the lips. Sophie drew back, and Brad's fell back, a look of curiosity and confusion covering his face.

"Is something wrong?" he inquired, to a distraught woman.  
Sophie's eyes leaked a tear. "I'm married…or I was."

Brad wiped the tears from her eyes. "Who was it?" he demanded, a slight anger in his voice.

"His name was Dale-" She managed to mutter; when the sound of uneven footsteps echoed in the hallway and the pair left each other's arms. Terri entered with a look of mock confusion on her face.

"Oh sorry," she said sweetly. "I'm not entirely sure which room is which," she said, tapping her head. "Amnesia," she reminded them.

Sophie looked at her sister, then to Brad. "It's O.K.," she said, returning the false kindness with a cold smirk.

"Did I interrupt you?" she said, and Brad shook his head mutely, storming towards the door.

"Mind the vase-" Terri said, stepping out his way, but the door slammed shut and the white vase fell, shattering.

"I'll get the dustpan," said Terri, leaving the solitary figure by the window, with a tear in her eye.

The evening was slowly coming, and the sky was picturesque, a romantic orange and pink crossing the sky, with the faintest of stars underneath the bright sky, as nighttime approached.

The church was full, a mixture of unique clothing amongst the tiers of people. An elderly man, decorated in a white pastor's outfit, with matching hair and long, draping beards, stood in front of an altar.

Before him was Dylan, dressed in a suave black suit. On the first row, sat a young-looking woman, with features greatly enhanced by botox and plastic surgery, landing her with a incredibly large smile and a face of make-up over the perky twenty-something woman. It was Emily's younger sister, who held Jay – dressed in a blue-and-white sailor's outfit.

"Where is she?" Dylan whispered to his best man – Ben – who shrugged.

"She will be here," hissed Emily's sister.

Suddenly, the church doors opened, and sunlight streamed into the dark church. Emily's hair fell in curly locks at her pale shoulders. A long, traditional white dress covered her pale skin, and the sunlight behind her gave her an almost angelic look. Her hands held a bunch of white lilies.

The tiers of people stood instantly, several gasps from them. The women envied the intricate dress, while the men admired the visible amount of flesh she was showing.

Kai and Catherine skipped down the aisle first, spreading flower petals on the red carpet in matching outfits of blue.

Emily followed, at a slow pace, as the music played, the theme echoing in Emily's ears. Her second time had to work – she was reliving the dream, and this time, it would not end in divorce.

She reached the altar, and smiled a dazzling smile at Dylan, as there was the uneven sound of united sitting.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here to join together this woman and this man in holy matrimony," the priest said in a long, boring voice. "If anyone should show just cause, why they may not be joined together in holy matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

There was a deathly silence, while Emily felt the turmoil in her stomach. It rattled her bones, and she shivered, the veil flickering.

The priest waited a few moments, before returning to his monotonous speech. "Repeat after me," he said, and Dylan recited as he was instructed.

"I, Dylan Waters, take you, Emily Thomas, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

The priest nodded, and turned to Emily, who took a deep breath, and began to recite her vows. "I, Emily Thomas, take you, Dylan Waters, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

The priest flashed his yellow teeth at Emily. "Dylan, will you take Emily to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honour her, and keep her in sickness and in health until death do you part?"

Dylan nodded. "I do," he turned to Emily, and the pair held hands. Dylan's face changed from joy to confusion as he saw the tears streaming down Emily's face.

"And Emily, will you take Dylan to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honour him, and keep him in sickness and in health until death do you part?"

The silence was unnerving.

Ellie looked at Amy with a look of concern, and the whole church sat in utter quiet, as they awaited Emily to say her words. However, the blonde-haired woman, tears spilling down her pale face, shook her head.

"No, I can't marry this man,"

There was an outburst of cries, some in confusion, and others in anger. Jay began to whimper, as Dylan stared at his wife, who was sobbing hysterically.

"I'm sorry everybody," she said, before running back up the aisle and leaving the church.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," said Charlene, with a sneer, before clasping her handbag tightly. "We should get going. I have a hair appointment at seven."

Emily stopped outside the church and collapsed in tears, sobbing hysterically. No matter how she had tried, her voice had quivered, and her brain betrayed her heart. She could not marry Dylan, with the memory of their first failed marriage still fresh in her memory.

The sky had shifted; the stars were slowly appearing as pinpricks of white against the darkening blue sky. The moon had not yet risen, but the sun had set – leaving the town in a strange sense of twilight.

Emily cupped her face and sobbed silently, her dress crumpled.

Memories of our past return to us as we walk down that aisle to a live of sacred marriage and devotion to the one we love. When the world comes crashing down, these are the people we love and turn to, to make things better. However, these sacred vows do not determine our future. The future for Emily Thomas was bleak, no matter how she tried to deny her future. Happily ever after is nothing more than a dream of bliss, and our dreams can sometimes betray us…


	20. Chapter 20: Pandora's Box

**Chapter 20: Pandora's Box**

Like most stories, this story also has a moral. According to Greek myth, a woman named Pandora was given a box by the Gods, which each had put something hurtful into it and forbade her ever to open it. One day, she lifted the lid­ and out flew innumerable plagues, sorrow and mischief for humanity. In terror, Pandora clapped the lid down, but too late. Sin was released into the world and to this day, her mistake has become our twisted reality…

Ben had played a similar role to Pandora in his life. Every time he tried to help his family or friends, he had been struck down by misfortune.

When he was nine, and his mother died, Ben tried to help organize the funeral, but was too overwhelmed with grief during the ceremony and ran out crying.

When he was fifteen, and his friends were all smoking, Ben tried to stop them, only to be caught with various packets of cigarettes in his hands and accused of dealing.

His most recent noble act had left him in dire consequences.

To defend his wife when her crazed aunt turned out to reclaim Charlie, he had stabbed her, which left her in a coma – a coma that she recovered from to direct the blame onto him.

The February rain fell unevenly on the muddy ground as Ben crouched in his son's tree house, a wooden box that tethered high in an old oak tree in the back garden. The smell of damp pine filled his nostrils, as well as the smell of warm Blueberry pie – the scent drifting out the open window as it cooled on the windowsill.

Ben reflected on his life, living a convict for the past few weeks, and decided to abandon his moral for some food that was not out of the garbage or snuck to him during the dead of night.

He slowly got up, and edged down the ladders, taking it a step at a time.

There was a strange sound, like a popping – but Ben ignored his, licking his dry lips as he waited to taste the juicy blueberry pie.

There was another sound, this time clearer, as a bullet hit the wooden step below him and Ben slipped, grabbing onto the branch in terror.

Collin stood on the floor; his bulky frame encased in a black raincoat, which was soaked with rainwater, His coarse black hair was covering his eyes – distorting his view. With his free hand, he ran a hand throw the thick fringe, and shot again.

Ben felt the impact – but the accompanying pain was absent. Ben's thoughts slowly melted together, his mind blurring as he fell, like a weightless bird through the air. The rain felt so soft against his skin.

There was a thump and Ben returned to earth, the rain soaking his torn clothes, his wounds opening to reveal trickles of blood. He lay, facing the dark grey clouds and whispered a single word, the name of the person who stood beside Collin. The one who had betrayed him.

"Ellie."

---

The air tasted like bitter cigarettes and the poisonous vapours made Matt cough slightly. The alleyway smelt like a public toilet, the urine and stale smell of sweat plaguing the air as well as the smoky scent. The ground was a paradise for litterbugs, cigarette boxes and old kebabs, rotting food and broken bottles over the black gravel.

Matt shifted uncomfortably, the gravel grinding loudly beneath his shoes.

"Matthew," purred a man's voice.

It was full of a thick sadistic excitement from seeing the man squirm. It was suave, most likely to belong to a rich man – keeping a shifty air to it in the way he talked with such confidence. His name was Jacob, dyed black hair atop his scalp, and numerous piercing on his face - two in his ear, one nose stud, and one on his lip. His cheeks were flushed with a confident blush, like seeing an old archenemy from school.

Matt looked up. The man was dressed in a simple black suit, like one an undertaker would wear.

"Jacob, please" begged Matt, stepping forward, the crunch of gravel beneath his feet the only sound in the silent alleyway. Two men, both bald and dark skinned snarled at the man, who backed off ever so slightly.

"I need more time," whined Matt, persistently, but Jacob's eye twitched at this sentence, as if he had heard it before.

"My dear Matthew," he sneered. "I've been supplying you with drugs since you were eighteen. You had slowly irked me with these increasingly less payments."

Jacob picked up a small stone from the floor and held it in his palm. "This was you until you stopped paying your bills." He smiled, suddenly a dark shadow casting across the pebble as his hand enveloped it. "Now, you have a choice. Escape my grip, or be crushed by the iron fist."

Matt opened his mouth several times, like an inarticulate goldfish, but kept his mouth closed in the end. "I'll find the money."

"Good. You wouldn't want to face my wrath again, would you?" he winked at the other man, and Matt felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Leave us men," he said, and the two guards left to find Jacob's car.

"Drugs isn't the only thing I'm supplying." He whispered, sensually in Matt's ear, who shivered as the older man leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.

"So get my money or all of my-" he cleared his throat. "-'services' will end,"

Matt nodded. "Thank you," he mumbled several times.

Jacob made to leave, but turned around. "One more thing." Before Matt could react, a fist swung round and hit him in the cheek with vigour. Matt felt a tooth come loose and blood poured from his bust lip – his eye bruising to match his purple cheek.

"Never sleep with my sister again," he snapped and left Matt alone, in the filthy cradle of an endless drug-addicts hell.

---

Amy lay in her bathtub, large quantities of bubbles and warm water helping her to relax. She had earlier thought of Melissa Johnson, and recalled a vague memory. She dunked her head under water…

_Amy was rushing through the wards. She was twenty, and her first major operation would be today. She consulted her watch, who told her she was late. She ran down the corridor and got to the room._

_Operation Room_

_She took a deep breath and entered…_

Amy's head emerged from the water, her blonde hair darker now. As she reached for the towel, another section of the fragmented memory came to her mind…

_Dressed in a surgeons outfit, Amy surveyed the scene before her with great interest. A girl, about fifteen was laid on the table with a deep bullet would to the head. If Amy could remove it, the girl would live; but if she failed, the girl would die._

"_This is Melissa Johnson, the girl's mother," said a fellow surgeon and Amy made sure to acknowledge her._

"Let's begin," Amy said…

Amy walked down the corridor, a towel only around her waist. The sound of dripping on the wooden floor returned more of the memory that the girl had sought to hide from all others…

"_Mrs Johnson?" Amy's voice was hoarse but kind. "Your daughter is safe,"_

"_Thank you so much," The dark skinned women whispered as she hugged Amy._

_Amy's smile began to turn to a more comforting smile for the other women. She hated delivering bad news. "However, Mrs. Johnson, I believe your daughter will have major cranium damage throughout her life. She's being diagnosed by a doctor as we speak, but there seems to be long-term effects such as memory-loss, speech impediments and possibly blindness."_

"_Excuse me?"_

_Amy could not be sure, but hidden within those dark brown eyes was a hint of glee at this news. Some perverted form of happiness from this bad news._

Amy was walking down the stairs, dressed in pale pinks and lilacs. The thoughts of that day still haunted her as she walked…

_A single lamp lit the room, and Melissa sat beside her daughter, stroking her hair. The door opened quietly and Amy stepped inside. She crossed the room and sat opposite Melissa, next to Sonya. _

"_I don't know what type of weapon could cause such impact…care to enlighten me, Mrs. Johnson?" Amy asked, but the women had a suspicious look on her face. "Standard Medical procedure," Amy said with a convincing smile._

"A gun," Melissa said darkly, her eyes fixed on Amy's eyes. "She dropped her father's rifle and it went off," 

_Amy smiled kindly, but she knew the woman was lying._

Amy walked down the driveway towards the letterbox. As she opened the letterbox, she saw Melissa Johnson walking past.

"Hello Mrs. Hunt," she said.

"Hello Mrs. Johnson," Amy replied automatically as the woman walked on past. 'What are you hiding?' she wondered to herself.

---

Night engulfed Appleby Street in a humid, dark wave that lulled the residents into a deep sleep where their troubles became distant memories.

Meanwhile, in the Jones household, Katy was struggling to sleep, intrigued by information she had gathered.

She got out of bed and turned on her light and her computer. When she had returned, with a cup of coffee, the screen was illuminating the room with a blue glare.

Sitting down at her desk, she typed into a few commands and clicked the mouse regularly.

A blueprint version of the street came up and when the mouse hovered over the houses, images of the residents would appear. She typed in another command and an image of Mr. Harrison and Catherine Gardener came up.

"Why did you both die?" she wondered aloud, typing another command. A section of information came up, detailing Mr. Harrison and Catherine's lives, and she scanned them for links.

"Mr. Harrison wrote a newspaper…and Catherine was very talkative. Were they killed because they knew something that they shouldn't?" Katy's deductions were quiet but valid, as she suggested this to the computer. A small whirring noise indicted she had mail. Checking her inbox, a single e-mail from her boss popped up.

"Katy, this is Collin. Both murderers have been identified." She read aloud, her eyes wide in surprise. "Andrew Dale killed Mr. Harrison and Brad Wilkinson killed Mrs Gardener." Her eyes widened at this information. "Their arrests will be imminent. Hope this helps, Collin."

She typed another few commands into the computer and four images appeared on-screen. The computer scanned for connections and found one.

"Brad and Andrew are related to Terri Wilkinson. Andrew is her brother in-law, due to a marriage between Alex Dale and Sophie Wilkinson." She read. "And Mr. Harrison's last article was on Terri's death."

She leant back in her chair. "Did Catherine know something about Terri then?" She wondered aloud but no reply came from the computer. She sat in silence and reflected in the peaceful warmth of night, slowly falling to sleep.

---

The morning sunlight spilled into Appleby Street as Sunday morning was upon the citizens of the secluded town. The incessant sound of police cars echoed in the deserted street.

Twin cars of red, white and blue slid into the street at precisely 9:00am that Sunday as their sirens blazed loudly in the morning air.

The residents of Appleby Street groggily scrambled from their warm beds, drew back their curtains and pressed their sleepy faces against the cold panes. The police visited Appleby Street little (after all, it was the 'perfect street') so the rare occasions they did, it was a moment of interest for the nosey neighbours.

The first police car pulled to a halt outside Number 14. Amy watched in horror, as the police officer climbed from the car and began to approach the Dale residence with a pair of handcuffs in his gloved hand. The second stopped in front of the Wilkinson household, the only one who had not emerged from their beds.

Curious residents ran for their slippers and dressing gowns, prepared to withstand the cold, morning air to see the police officers arrest their culprits.

There was a knocking at the Dale residence, which Alex answered. The man was in his navy boxer shorts, looking frustrated and tired.

"What?" he snapped, regardless of their overpowering authority.

"Andrew Dale?" the first officer inquired tentatively.  
Alex turned to the man who was edging down the stairs in a navy dressing gown. "Andrew, it's for you." His brother said, before leaving the doorway and heading to the fridge.

"Andrew Dale?" the second officer requested.  
"Yes?" asked the Welshman curiously. Amy was stood behind him, her eyes wide in fear.

"You're under arrest." The police officer flashed his badge and Andrew's eyes widened. Within seconds, the steel cuffs bound his wrists together.

"You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used against you in court as evidence." The police officer said, routinely. "Please follow me, Mr. Dale."

At the Wilkinson household, Sophia watched from the doorway with mild interest as Brad was taken to the police car awaiting him. Terri held tight to Mary and Stewart, who both were in tears.

Residents gathered on the pavements in their gowns, shivering at the bitter morning wind. "There have been three arrests within the past twenty-four hours." Ellie heard a police officer mutter. "Appleby Street is becoming a crime hotspot."

"What's going on here?" demanded Emily of one of the officers.

"I can't say officially ma'am, but they're both charged with murder." He replied casually.

"Murder?" Emily repeated, horrified.

A wave of fear rippled through the small crowd of people. Brad had lived in Appleby Street for nearly 10 years – he was well known by the people of Appleby Street as an excellent father and a pro-golfer. Andrew Dale had remained a stranger to the street, though he was friendly despite suspicion.

The police officers escorted both men to the cars that awaited them. Brad did not try to resist, accepting his fate quietly. Andrew chose a different option.

"Let me go!" he yelled, struggling with his might. The two officers who held him were shaken by this escape attempt, but dragged him down his lawn. "I'm innocent, I tell you!"

He turned to face his girlfriend, Amy, and looked desperately at her. "Tell them Amy! Tell them I'm innocent."

"I…" Amy's eyes filled with tears. "I can't Andrew…" she sobbed, breaking down on her doorstep.

"Amy!" Andrew bellowed as he was pulled into the police car. "Amy, I'm innocent, I swear!" he cried hysterically as the door was closed.

Without another cry, the police cars shot off, their whirring the only sound in the street beside the sobbing of Amy Hunt.

---

Ben sat in the small cell in the police station, his hands cuffed and his clothes a monotonous black and white. His face was streaked with tears, mud and, surprisingly, blood. His external wounds had been smothered in antiseptic and wrapped in layers of bandage, but the internal wounds hurt more than ever. His own wife had betrayed him.

"You have a visitor." The burly security guard said. The thick steel bars that held him captive slid open and a brown-haired woman stepped in, dressed in black as if she was attending a funeral.

"Ellie?" Ben crossed the room and the pair kissed, passionately but something was absent. "Ellie, what's wrong?" He asked. Ellie's eyes were red – she had been crying.

"I'm sorry Ben," she sobbed. "Please forgive me," She removed his arms and stepped back. "I didn't want them to hurt you,"

"Ellie…?" Ben asked, worried. "No, please Ellie, don't do this again!"

Tears were pouring down her face. "I'm so sorry." Ellie muttered. "I love you Ben, but. I can't be there for you this time." She left him alone in the cell, as the lights turned out and plunged Ben into darkness. He sank against the wall, his own eyes full of tears.

More than anything, he needed hope. At the bottom of this deep, dark box, there must be hope.

Yes, Pandora's curiosity led to a great terror upon the world. However, at the bottom of the box, was hope. In all situations - be they dark as a prison cell or as unfathomable as an addiction – Hope is the antidote to our sins, our evils that plague our planet with our misfortune. Hope was the only good the box held, among the many evils, and it remains to this day humanity's sole comfort in misfortune.


	21. Chapter 21: Playing with Fire

**Chapter 21: Playing with Fire**

'Playing with fire will only get you burnt', so the old saying goes. In the coldness and darkness of night, fire is there to make everything better. Since the dawn of time, fire has being both man's friend and foe: giving warmth but destroying his home without warning or reason. In the hands of wrongdoers, fire can hurt and fire can kill. The old phrase can also refer to an enemy, and some enemies should not be toyed with…

Charlene Gates had been burnt while playing with fire several times. As a child, her abusive alcoholic stepfather had beaten her when she broke her mother's favourite vase.

The same stepfather raped her when she had been flirting with a younger Matthew Bourne at her graduation party. When she gave birth to her stepfather's child, her family had disowned her, alone in the world with a baby girl.

When she had flirted with Matthew during his anniversary party several years ago, his newlywed wife had announced they were moving to Appleby Street. Charlene had followed, but playing with fire always got her burnt.

Nine months ago, she had baited her neighbour's husband and slept with him – but she had not become burnt by this incident. She thought her luck had finally changed, as she was rushed into labour.

As the stretcher was wheeled towards the Maternity ward, Charlene watched Matt's face swim before her – the comforting smile and warm eyes. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. She was not going to be burnt this time.

---

"Emily?"

Emily looked up, with large black eyes – her mascara caked around her puffy red eyes. In the mirror on the wall, she saw Dylan in the doorway to her kitchen.

"Emily, why are you crying?" he asked, crossing the room and sitting beside her.

"I'm scared, Dylan." Emily said weakly. "I humiliated you in front of everyone. I can't face them anymore."

"Emily, let's leave this place behind," Dylan said, "Let's start a new life – one free of all our old ties."

"Dylan, can we?" Emily sounded doubtful.

"Yes," Dylan answered, moving a clump of straw-coloured hair out of Emily's eyes. "We can start again – be a proper family to little Jay. We do not have to get married if you do not want to. We will go somewhere were no one will find us. Free from our past." He paused, a glint of childlike excitement in his eye. "So, what do you say?"

Emily smiled. "I do." She said.

---

Ellie Jones was sat in her bathroom, sobbing softly. Her eyes were red and her perfect make-up was ruined. She was weeping for her betrayal – the ultimate betrayal of her husband.

"Mum?" Nadine's voice came from behind the bathroom door, sounding concerned for her mother.

"What is it sweetheart?" Ellie stammered. She got a tissue, dried her eyes, and blew her nose. The sound clearly disturbed her daughter, who asked:

"Is everything alright?"

"Its fine," Ellie lied as she turned on the tap and splashed water on her face, rinsing it clean of the ruined make-up. Ellie replied, dabbing her face with the towel. She looked into the mirror – she looked perfect, a mask hiding the tragic pain she felt. She reached for the door handle to let Nadine into the bathroom.

"Mum, where's Dad?" Nadine asked and Ellie froze. A thousand thoughts shot through her head, worry and panic blinding her senses.

"He's…" she knew there was no other way to tell her daughter this. She opened the door and looked her teenage daughter in the eye. "He's in prison,"

Nadine gave her mother a stern look, which reminded Ellie so much of Ben. "Why?"

"He tried to kill your aunt Maria." Ellie said, avoiding her daughter's eye.  
Nadine looked at her mother in shock. "You shipped Dad in, didn't you?" she snapped.

"I had no choice." Ellie felt the tears in her eyes again. "I had to tell them the truth."

"You could have lied!" Nadine protested. "You can have pretended he hadn't!"

"I was too weak, Nadine, please – believe me." Ellie begged, but her daughter recoiled at her touch. "No, Nadine, please! You have to believe me! You are all I have left. I did not mean to hurt you. I loved him. He was my world. I was too weak!"

Nadine shook her head, the teenage girl with teary eyes – though her tears were filled with rage not sadness. Then, she uttered three words that struck Ellie like a bullet.

"I hate you."

Ellie's hands went to her breast, where her heart felt as if it had stopped. Her eyes were watery and she remained on her knees. "Nadine!" she cried, but Nadine did not listen, leaving her mother alone in the corridor, sobbing.

---

In Appleby Hospital, a startling revelation was about to be made.

The doctor, an elderly man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck was having a meeting with Collin, the private investigator of Maria Stone's case.

"I have the results," the doctor told the investigator. He was brandishing a sheet of paper, which Collin removed from the man's hand and began to skim read it. Meanwhile, Maria Stone slept on the bed near them, monitors measuring her vital statistics, her chest rising and falling steadily, as if she were asleep.

"As well as the trauma and paralysis, I've run some further tests on her to see if there is any other long term damage. I found something very interesting." Collin raised an eyebrow in interest.

"She has been diagnosed with schizophrenia and severe paranoia. Her statement against Mr. Jones is invalid because she is not of sound mind."

"So was she lying?" Collin asked.

"We can't tell." The doctor replied. "But what we can tell is that she'd be much better off in a home for the clinically insane."

"Damn," Collin's fist hit the table. "I was so sure I had Jones caught."

"You'd better release him," the doctor advised, but his voice weakened when he saw Collin pull out his gun.

"Or maybe I should just eliminate the evidence?" he said, and with a clean shot – the doctor fell dead with a hole in his head.

---

"Mum, why did they take Daddy away?" asked Mary.  
Terri looked up from the toast she was buttering. "Daddy is just getting asked some questions by the police." She said calmly.

"He killed someone, kid."

Sophie Wilkinson had emerged from the Lounge and stood in the kitchen, looking malevolent. "He's going to prison for his crime." She continued.

"Sophie!" Terri's face was a mask of rage. "Do not lie to my children,"  
"If you told them the truth, they wouldn't need me to 'lie' to them." Sophie retorted.  
"Do not tell me how to raise my children," Terri snapped, absent-mindedly adding more butter to the already drenched slice.

"With the amnesia, I thought you needed some help." Sophie said with mock concern.

Terri's hand grasped the knife tightly. For several moments, she held it, considering the delicate shine of this blade. She finally released it and carried Stewart's toast to him. "Thank you Sophie," she said coldly.

---

"Why is Andrew in prison?" demanded Amy.

Alex lit up a cigarette. "Not your business to know," he said coolly.

"Yes it is," Amy said. "Emily said he was a murderer."

"Did she?" Alex said in mock surprise. "Well, gossip spreads fast."

"Is it true?" Amy demanded - her eyes teary. "Tell me Alex!" she cried.

Alex extinguished his cigarette and looked Amy in the eyes. "I won't lie to you. My brother has killed once before. He killed for her."

"Who?" Amy desperately asked.

Alex paused, looking deep into those ovals of watery blue. His face was set in a serious gaze, with a strong jaw. He saw past her strong resolute and understood her pain.

"Sophie Wilkinson."

---

Charlene came round slowly, taking in the details of the hospital room where she resided. The square window on her right allowed the afternoon light to illuminate the room with a vivid glow. The sheets were clean and freshly washed. Her eyes fell on the beside table's mirror, where she noticed how haggard she looked. A solitary figure sat at her side, cradling an armful of white cloth.

"Matt…" she groaned.

Zack woke up from his trance, looking at the woman. He looked exhausted, deep circles beneath his vivid blue eyes.  
"Charlene…" his voice was soft, a bedside manner suitable for a dying person.

"Where is the baby?" she asked, now alert. She struggled to sit up, ignoring the agonizing pains in her stomach. "Where is my baby?"

Matt looked down forlornly at the bundle of cloth. Then, he stood up and passed her the bundle. "It's a girl." He mumbled.

It was quite heavy and, as the cloth fell away, a beautiful face came into sight – wispy blonde hair and a pale complexion. Something was wrong – the baby was cold and unmoving. Its tiny hands were icy to touch.

"Matt?" Charlene was confused, the medication still wearing off. "Matt, what's wrong with our child? Tell me what's wrong with her."

"She died, Charlene," his voice was softer now; Charlene was straining to hear it. "You gave birth to her but there were…complications."

"What do you mean?" Charlene looked down at the lifeless child – her lifeless child.

"The umbilical cord was tied around her neck. They had to perform a caesarean." He paused, now at the window, gazing out at the January afternoon. "She came out blue – breathing difficulties." There was another pause, more apprehensive. "She was only three minutes old."

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Charlene began to sob. Tears rolled down her face, smudging her make-up. They fell onto the lifeless baby but she did not stir.  
"But it doesn't matter," Matt said, a hand caressing her cheek. "We'll try again,"

"She was my first child with you," Charlene blurted out, tears streaming down her face.  
"What about Erin?" Matt asked, bemused.

The tears stopped. Charlene's breathing was heavy and uneven. Even in the face of her beloved rejecting her, Charlene was compelled to tell the truth. "She isn't yours. My stepfather raped me at my graduation party," she looked into his misty blue eyes. "I was three weeks pregnant when we slept together."

Matt paused, considering this new information. Then, he slapped her, his handprint visible on her pallid cheeks. "You lied to me," he said, angrier that she had ever seen him. "You betrayed me, Charlene. Why?"

"Because I love you!" Charlene cried. "I did it because I love you, Matthew, and nothing will ever change that!"

"You sick psycho," Matt said, his face transformed into a mask of repulsion. "Goodbye,"

Without another word, Matthew left the room, leaving Charlene alone with the dead child. She was alone once more.

---

Andrew and Brad sat alone in the police station, both cuffed to surly officers. Both were drinking deeply from mugs of coffee and chatting.

"Who'd you kill?" Brad said stiffly. Andrew did not respond, so he repeated the question. "I said, who did you kill?"

"You didn't know him," Andrew replied. "Why? Who did you murder?"

"Catherine," Brad said with a tinge of pride.

"Why?" Andrew quizzed.  
"She asked for it," Brad said, before he felt the desire to confess. "She was bribing my wife. She knew that Sophie had survived the fire and was living with my sister-in-law."

"Sophie?" Andrew's eyebrows were raised at the mention of this name.

"Sophie is…or was my youngest daughter. We named her after her aunt. We thought she had died in a fire that destroyed our first house. However, she survived and went to live with Terri's sister. Her aunt kept her hidden from us but Catherine discovered her existence when she visited her sister in Pearview."

There was a pause between the two men. "Why did you kill, Andrew?" Brad asked.

Andrew thought long and hard, staring at the grimy floor of the police station. "I did it to protect your wife. My sister-in-law."

---

Matt was walking down Brooklyn Close when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. After the first ring, he answered it.

"Hello?" he asked, tentatively.  
"Matthew, I think it's time you paid your bills." crooned a voice on the other end.  
"Jacob?" Matt was speaking quietly, furtively glancing around. "I paid you last month. Wasn't that enough?"  
"Not to fuel your addiction," Jacob responded. "So, since you've been avoiding paying your bills, we decided to do a little 'repossessing'." A wheezing cough followed, masking the sounds of screeching furniture and tearing of wallpaper.

"What?" Matt was walking faster, taking long strides out of the close and heading towards Appleby Street.

"Your house would look very nice without all this décor," Jacob said. "Doilies never suited you, anyway."

"Get out of my home!" Matt yelled, sprinting down the road to his house and rushing up the gravel, arriving at his front door. It was on its hinges. Inside, it was dark.

He hung up, taking a step inside. "Jacob?" he yelled, his voice echoing. Portraits hung unevenly on the wall, wallpaper ripped and vases shattered.

He took another step forward. "Jacob?" he yelled tentatively. Then, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. With a pale hand, he touched the bleeding wound. He had been shot.

"I told you we were 'repossessing'." Jacob said, pressing a suede heel into Matt's neck. "Your wife will cough up the money once she realises we have you hostage."

Then it all went black for Matt.

---

Ben hammered on the door of the cell, kicking and punching feebly. He had not eaten the food they had provided, the cold bowl of porridge on the bedside table.

"Open the door!" he roared, his voice hoarse now. "Open up,"

He heard the guards chuckling as usual but no response. He kicking the steel again then went to sit on his bed, his head buried in his hands.

There was the sudden click of a lock and Ben looked up, to see Ellie stood in the doorway. She was pale, her eyes wide. She ran forward and threw her arms around Ben.

"Are you O.K.?" she asked, when she would finally released him. "Collin said something about you having a fit."  
"What?" Ben said, before noticing the man over her shoulder. He looked darker than usual, and there was a gun in his hand. Then, he saw the guards shadows, slumped against the wall.

"How sweet – excuse me while I vomit." was his cutting remark, his fingers drumming the silver weapon. "Maybe we can get them to give you a joined cell,"

"What did you do?" he said.  
"Just a little white lie," Collin chuckled darkly. "She swallowed it easily enough. Just what did you see in her, Ben?"

Ellie was unfazed by the gun, standing up with her handbag tightly in her hands. "Get out of here, Collin." She snapped.  
"Who is the one with the gun here?" Collin snapped at her, turning the silver piece of steel at her instead of Ben. "Oh yeah – me! So I'll be giving the orders, missy."

"I disagree," Ellie said, and from her handbag, she drew an identical gun. "I had to steal it from Kathy but I knew it would come in handy,"

Both stood, staring at each other with cruel intention in their eyes. Neither lowered their guns, pointing at each other. Then, there was the crack of gunshot.

---

The schoolyard was bustling with parents and their children as the school day ended. Amy was stood, anxious in the crowds. Andrew was coming home today and she wanted to prepare a meal for her new family.

But as the yard grew steadily less crowded, Amy couldn't see her children leaving the school. She dithered for several moments when the yard was deserted completely, then headed for the school office.

"Hello?" she said to the woman behind the desk – a small bespectacled woman in a tartan skirt. "I was wondering if you knew where my children were."

The woman gave her a searching look. "What's the name?"

"It's Bourne." Amy said instantly. "Tom and Catherine Bourne."

The woman typed at her computer, her glasses reflecting the blue glare of the screen. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bourne but it seems they were checked out at 3:15 by a woman claiming to be their aunt. For a dental appointment."

The woman reached in the desk and withdrew a thick blue book, depositing it before Amy. She flicked through the pages to the most recent entry and there was the untidy scrawl that was horrifically familiar to Amy.

Mrs. C. Gates.

Charlene had her children.

---

"Mrs. Gates, where are you taking us?" Tom asked curiously, staring out the window. They had driven down winding streets that were unfamiliar to the teen.  
"I'm taking you home, Thomas." Charlene replied. She had fled from the hospital after Matthew had left her. She had attacked the nurse who had tried to stop her. No one would stop in her path. If she could not have Matt's children in life, then it would be in death.

Tom looked at his sister, who was asleep. However, his mind was put at ease when they arrived on Appleby Street.

"Right, just drop us off at Mr. Dale's please." Tom said politely. But Charlene ignored him, pulling up on the gravely driveway of their old house.

"What are you doing?" he demanded but Charlene continued to feign deafness as she climbed out of the silver escort then wrenched open his door.  
"Get out now," she hissed. "Don't argue, just get out."

He obeyed, fearing the wide-eyed expression of madness. "What's wrong with Catherine?" he asked the woman as she went to open his sister's door.

"She's asleep." Charlene replied, lifting the young girl from her seat and carrying her to the front door. It stood, slightly askew. "Hurry up Thomas," she called cheerfully.

The teen was tempted to run for help, but the woman had his sister. He followed her reluctantly into his old house, noticing the strange signs that were left by Jacob.

"What happened here?" he asked, turning to see the door was hanging loosely by its hinges. He felt something blunt hit the back of his head and he forgot his worries.

---

"Pick up the phone," Amy screeched into her Bluetooth headset, but to no avail. The Jones did not answer her phone, neither did the Dales. Following her children's kidnapping, she had ran for her car and hastily hurried for her house.

Why had Charlene taken her children? Charlene was heavily pregnant – she had been rushed to hospital earlier. Amy had seen the ambulances.

Fearing the worst when she saw the silver escort parked on the drive of her old home, she parked her car on the sidewalk and rushed for the door. She would confront Charlene herself until the police arrived.

"Oh my god!" she screamed when she saw door hanging loosely by a single hinge. "Tom! Catherine!" she cried, standing in the hallway, looking around.

"Mummy?" was the sleepy reply of her daughter. She turned around to find the door closed, with Charlene in the way.

"Hello Amy," Charlene said. Her stomach was noticeably smaller and her face wore an expression of haggard exhaustion and a sinister darkness. In her hands were a large harpoon gun and a length of rope. "Nice of you to come,"

"Where are they?" Amy yelled. "Where are Tom and Catherine?"

Charlene smiled and pointed at the Lounge. The furniture was destroyed, but on the leather sofa were her children. Her daughter tied up with her brother by the same rope as Charlene was holding. Tom was unconscious, a disgusting brown-red colour staining his beautiful blonde hair. Was it blood?

"You evil cow," Amy shrieked. "Leave my children alone," she took a step towards them before she felt her stomach twinge in pain. The child was coming.

"They are perfectly safe, Amy," Charlene said, aiming the harpoon gun at Amy. It had been a wedding present from the Wilkinson's – carved from the finest wood and in a glass case. It was perfectly deadly in the wrong hands.

"You let them go now," Amy said. "Release them,"  
"You're in no position to order me about," Charlene snapped. "You're heavily pregnant with no one to help you."  
"The police are coming," Amy said. "They'll arrest you, you psychopath."

"Words, Amy." Charlene said. "When the police arrive, we'll all be in heaven."

Amy swallowed. What did she mean?"

"Now, unless you want your children to die, I'm going to tie you up so you don't cause any trouble." Charlene was already advancing on her, the rope in her hands. The harpoon gun hung over her shoulder by a thick leather strap. She bound Amy tightly.

"Now, you're going to say goodbye to your children for the last time," Charlene said, dragging the pregnant woman by her hair to her tied children. "Say goodbye."

Amy knelt down and caressed Catherine's cheek, kicking the tear-soaked face. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll get us out of here," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her young daughter. Then, she kissed Tom on the forehead and stood up.

"Like small spaces Amy?" Charlene asked. "I hope you're not claustrophobic."  
Amy kept her silence as Charlene led her back into the hall and towards the airing closet. Then, she tore at the Amy's hair, wrenched open the door and threw Amy in.

Disorientated at first, Amy regained her composure quickly. She pressed an eye to the keyhole to see Charlene's back to her. Her hand went for the golden door-handle.

"Don't try to escape," Charlene said. When she turned around, Amy saw she was dousing the hall in petrol. "I've bolted it from the outside." She said before disappearing into the lounge with the large bottle of petroleum.

Amy was almost in constant pain now. Her contractions were closer together now, nearly every minute. She could not remember when but her waters must have broken.

"Let me out now, you psycho! You are sick, you know." She screamed, hammering on the door. Charlene did not answer her, so Amy gave up, struggling to keep herself from giving birth in the cupboard.

Charlene was singing quietly now, and Amy pressed her eye to the keyhole. Charlene was back in the hall – but the petrol bottle was gone. The hall floor was glistening with petrol, even in this dusky light.

Charlene had helped herself to some champagne from the liquor closet in the dining room. She dropped two blue pills into the alcoholic drink. It fizzed slightly before she downed the whole bottle. She hiccoughed then looked in Amy's direction.

"Sleeping pills," she explained loudly. "I'd offer you some but I gave the rest to your children." Then, she withdrew a matchbox from her pocket and lit a match, the orange-red glow glowing feebly.

"Charlene, there has to be another way!" Amy said – her voice desperate now. "Please, let my children go. Don't let them suffer." She pleaded.

Charlene shook her head. "No, Amy, there isn't another way. Your husband betrayed me and this is my revenge. Once he finds everyone he loves is dead, he'll regret the day he walked out on me."

"Charlene…" Amy said softly. "You don't need to do this. Matt tried to destroy my life as well, but I survived. You can too – just don't let him destroy your life."

For a moment, Amy thought it had worked. Charlene stood; her face full of doubt and sadness. Her eyes filled with genuine tears and she looked directly at Amy. "What else can I do?" she said sadly.

Amy went to reply but the sound of sirens stirred Charlene. The sleeping pills took effect and Charlene dropped the match as she fell, her body hitting the floor the same time as the match.

The house exploded in colour. Charlene disappeared from view behind the amber-coloured flames. The petrol allowed the fire to spread quickly, the wooden floor aiding in the destruction. Fire danced in the hallway, spreading towards the lounge.

Amy screamed, and noticed that she was already into labour. She remembered her exercises and began to push.

---

Alex Dale was pulling into the street when he saw that 12 Appleby Street was alight. Fire danced from the downstairs windows and thick black plumes of smoke through the upstairs windows. The loud cracking of the fire was bringing attention to the house.

While the neighbours gathered around the blazing house, the sirens grew louder – the police accompanied by the distant ringing of the fire engines.

Melissa Johnson was first to notice the possible danger when she observed the two cars.

"Oh my goodness," she gasped. "People are inside!"

Alex removed his leather jacket, running from his car to the front door. As he wrenched open the askew door, it fell sideways, severed from its hinges. Inside, smoke and fire combined. A body lay in the centre of the flames, unmoving and blackening.

He heard a tiny cry from the lounge, a child's voice whispering. "Help…"

"Whose there?" he yelled over the roar of the flames, the heat burning at his bare arms. Each breath he took, he was inhaling more smoke.

"Catherine…" coughed the tiny voice and he ran into the lounge. The pair was tied together on one of the sofas while flames danced around them.

Alex ran forward but the heat of the fire repelled him. He looked around, trying to find some aid.

His eyes saw a fire extinguisher in a corner, obscured by smoke. Crouching as he walked to avoid deadly smoke inhalation, he grabbed the heavy red extinguisher. Within minutes, he had created a path to the two children.

"Charlene," Catherine mumbled sleepily. "She kidnapped us."

"Where is she?" Alex asked as he tore at the ropes.

"In the hall," Catherine coughed and the vivid image of the blackening body came back to Alex, causing him to wince. The ropes were now untied, but both children were unwilling to move.

"C'mon," he yelled, throwing Catherine over his shoulder. But Tom was unresponsive, and he noticed the blood on his head. He ran for the front door, carrying the young girl out of her burning house. The police and fire engines had pulled up, men in uniform dashing about.

"Stay here," he said to Catherine as he put her down on the lawn. The heat was even more intense now as he re-entered the house, the body gone. He gulped as he went into the lounge and found the fire extinguisher was gone.

"Thought you would rescue them?" said a scathing voice, bitter and twisted. Alex turned around and saw Charlene, her flesh burned and disgusting. She smiled cruelly before he saw a flash of red. A second later, he was on the floor, consciousness fading away and he saw Charlene holding the fire extinguisher and laughing.

---

The fire had brought the neighbours from their homes, all watching as the house burned fiercely. Thick plumes of smoke were filling the sky and the second floor was now ablaze, the very foundations of the house crumbling. Parts of the roof were close to caving in. The house was dying, slowly and horrifically.

Catherine was now in the care of several police officers when a third car pulled up. Andrew and Brad got out the car, both standing in awe of the fire. Steel handcuffs bound their hands.

"Andrew!" Catherine yelled, fighting off the officers and hurrying to the man. She threw her arms around his navel. "Mummy's inside." She said.

---

The door opened. Terri was asleep in her room – or pretending to be. She heard quiet footsteps followed by the door closing and a click of a lock closing.

"I'm sorry about earlier Terri," Sophie said. "I know you're only pretending to sleep. You did it all the time when you were twelve,"

Terri opened her eyes, facing the beige wall. The lightning showed her sister approaching her, both hands behind her back.

"Do you remember why you have amnesia?" Sophie said, continuing the one-sided conversation. She was getting closer. Terri could see something sharp behind her back.  
"Why don't you put the knife down, Sophie? Another death attempt won't work when I'm expecting it." Terri said, sitting up.

Sophie pounced at Terri, brandishing a long silver kitchen knife. Terri caught her sister by the wrists. Sophie screamed, as Terri forced her to relinquish the knife. The silver blade fell and embedded itself in the mattress.

"You know it was me?" Sophie hissed, as she pinned her younger sister against the wall.  
"I never had amnesia, Sophie." Terri said, kneeing Sophie in the stomach. "It was all an act. I wanted to expose you for the cold-blooded murderer you are."

"Liar!" Sophie hissed as Terri leapt off the bed and went for the door. "I never killed her."  
Terri rattled the door handle but it would not open. "You killed mum, no matter what dad says. And you stole my daughter."

"Your daughter is dead," Sophie shrieked, grabbing Terri by her hair. "She died, years ago. You're going to join her soon enough."

With one final burst of strength, Sophie crashed Terri's head against the bedpost where her sister lay still and bloody.

---

Amy heard the sound of people talking. She began to scream but her voice was hoarse. With as much strength as she could muster, she hammered on the door with one hand while she held the baby with another.

It was a boy – a beautiful, healthy baby boy. He was wrapped tightly in her jacket, with a mop of golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was coughing and squeezing her little finger with his tiny hand, crying loudly.

"Get away from the door," she heard a man shout, and she pressed herself as close against the opposite wall as possible.

A silver blade appeared between the wood, and the axe continued to hack at the closed door. Finally, the door swung open, allowing Amy to escape.

One fire fighter took her baby from her, and another helped her to her feet and supported her out of the house.

She was led to a cluster of ambulances. In one was her teenage son, Tom, who wore an oxygen mask. Alex Dale was in the second, in a similar state to Tom. In the third was an occupied body bag. The fire fighter returned and her newborn child was returned.

"We're taking you to hospital for a check-up," he told her before heading back towards the building. A second fire fighter brought over Catherine, who sat beside her.

Amy breathed heavily, cradling her child. Finally, things were going to be all right.

"Mummy?" Catherine gave a wheezy cough, her eyes unfocused. "I don't feel well." Then Catherine collapsed to the floor, pale and still.

"Catherine? Catherine!"

---

In the blue body bag, Charlene lay, burned and horrifically scarred. She was almost unrecognizable.

But she realised she had accomplished her goal. She had destroyed all who Matt loved. She smiled; a secret smile to her then closed her eyes, finally at rest.


End file.
